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THE PKIMKOSE SERIES 



Tssukd Skmi-Monthlv. 

SuBSCliirTioN Pkice, Rkr Year. 

No. 14.-JANUARY 15, 1891. 

C(ypyrighted, 1891, hy JStreet d: Smith. 


Entered at the Post-Office, yew York, as Second-Cla^ Matter. 



A lifovelization of the Celebrated Play 





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“ Her beauty might outface the jealous hours, 
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Make spring rebellious in the sides of frost. 
Thrust out lank winter with hot August growths. 
Compel sweet blood into the husks of death. 
And from strange beasts enforce harsh courtesy.” 

T. Hayman — 1655. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. PAGE. 

I. — At the Mercy of the Conqueror 7 

II. — The Victor Vanquished 19 

III. — The Greek Slave 32 

IV. — In the Land of the Lotus 48 

V. — “Go, My Hero! Save Rome!” 60 

VI. — Illusions dispelled 69 

VII. — Varium et Mutabile 81 

VIII. — The Dead Alive 98 

IX. — Farewell 107 

X. — The Messenger of Woe 114 

XI. — Beneath the Ibis’ Wing 131 

XII. — In the Eternal City 144 

XIII. — Octavia 158 

XIV. — The Voice of the Charmer 174 

XV. — After Actium 192 

XVI. — Queen and Goddess 211 

XVII.— All is Lost 237 

XVUI. — The Last Kiss of All 245 



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SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER I. 

AT THE MERCY OF THE CONQUEROR. 

It was close upon mid-day. The sun, nearly 
at its height, poured down its rays upon the little 
city of Tarsus, the capital of Cilicia, flooding with 
light the broad streets, courts, and quays, and 
gleaming upon the polished marble of the temples 
and buildings. The Cydnus, like a ribbon of 
molten silver, rippled and sparkled between its 
banks, lined with cypresses, pomegranate trees, 
and laurel roses. Beyond rose the wooded sum- 
mits of Mount Taurus, outlined against the deep 
blue of the cloudless sky. 

Exquisite as the day was, it brought no cheer 
to the heavy hearts of the inhabitants of Tarsus. 


8 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


They had committed that unpardonable sin — ^the 
espousal of a lost cause, and the day of reckoning 
had come. 

The civil war which followed the death of Csesar 
is ended. Vanquished in the battle of Philippi, 
where Roman liberty expired, Brutus and Cassius 
are no more. The triumviri, Mark Antony, Oc- 
tavius Caesar and .i^^milius Lepidus, share be- 
tween them the empire of the world. Now has 
come the hour of reprisals, vengeance and pro- 
scription. Woe to the kings and provinces who, 
during the two years of civil war, have furnished 
aid to or shown sympathy with the republicans! 
Savage Mark Antony is devastating Asia Minor, 
extorting large sums from the cities, overwhelm- 
ing the people with taxes and inflicting upon the 
rebels pitiless punishments. To-day has come 
the turn of Tarsus, who has been chief among the 
offenders, and now, at the mercy of Antony, she 
must pay for her culpable past with the heads and 
gold of her citizens. To-day, at noon, the vic- 
torious general is to hold his court upon the banks 
of the Cydnus. The rulers who have offended 
him have been summoned hither; and, first of all, 
the young Queen of Egypt, Cleopatra, the daugh- 
ter of Ptolemy Auletes, who is agcused of furnish- 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


9 


ing soldiers, vessels and subsidies to the murder- 
ers of Csesar — that very Caesar whose mistress 
she has been — has been ordered to appear before 
the tribunal of the all-powerful triumvir. 

The great square close to the Cydnus is 
thronged with an anxious, expectant crowd; a 
crowd that is full of suppressed excitement and 
yet strangely silent, intimidated by the soldiers of 
the Roman legions, who are omnipresent. Many 
an anxious glance is cast upon the gleaming 
waters of the river, straining to catch a glimpse 
of some sail rounding the promontory where the 
stream makes an abrupt turn to the south. It is 
close upon the appointed time, and yet no sign of 
the great queen. Will Cleopatra disobey the 
mandate of Rome and refuse to come ? The gods 
forbid ! In her alone rests their only hope. 

Over the marble portico of the market-house 
has been stretched an awning of white and pur- 
ple, the supports adorned with banners, shields, 
and lances, and everywhere the terror-inspiring 
letters, S. P. Q. R. A scarlet cloth has been 
stretched down the steps, at the top of which is a 
gilded chair, surmounted by the golden eagles of 
Rome. On each side, leaving a passage clear, is 
stationed a long lin? of soldiers, 


10 


SAIWOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


Not far from tlie portico, a little isolated from 
tlie crowd, stood two men engaged in earnest con- 
versation. The one was a man of about sixty, 
wearing a mantle of plain brown cloth over a bat- 
tered and dented armor. His face, with its griz- 
zled beard and shaggy eyebrows, in spite of the 
numerous scars that told of many a hard-fought 
contest, bore the impress of sturdy honesty and 
rugged manliness. His companion was much 
younger, not more than thirty, with the dark eyes 
and tawny complexion of the people of a sunny 
clime, and dressed with somewhat of foppish ele- 
gance in a tunic of embroidered linen, over which 
fell a long cloak of scarlet cloth with fringe of 
gold. He was an Egyptian, Diomedes by name, 
who had been sent as an ambassador to announce 
the coming of his royal mistress. 

“It will go ill with Egypt,” said the soldier, 
with an ominous shake of the head, “if the queen 
fails to appear. Antony is in no mood for tri- 
fling.” 

“Have no fear, Ventidius. She will be here, 
though possibly it were better for your master did 
she refuse.” 

“I do not understand.” 

The Egyptian smiled slyly. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


11 


“You will later. But tell me, why has she been 
summoned here ?” 

“She is accused of making war upon us and 
furnishing gold and soldiers to the assassins of 
Ciesar.” 

“Impossible !” replied Diomedes, with an incred- 
ulous movement of his straight, black eyebrows. 

“That is the common rumor,” said Ventidius, 
sturdily. “Our enemies were conquered and their 
death was certain. Philippi was for Antony an- 
other Pharsala. But before his defeat, Cleopatra 
adroitly conveyed aid to Brutus. Antony believes 
this, at least, and he has resolved to force her to 
publicly answer the charge.” 

“Does he pretend to be seriously angry with 
her?” 

“Certainly, and she must explain her conduct.” 

Diomedes was silent for a moment, and his 
crafty black eyes roved over the seething multi- 
tude beneath. 

“Ventidius,” he said, at last, “you were in 
Bgypt with Csesar, were you not?” 

“Yes. Why ask that ?” 

“You have seen Cleopatra?” 

“Often,” 


12 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


“And yet you do not foresee tlie end of tliis 
trial ?” 

Ventidius stared at the Egyptian for a mo- 
ment, and then a light broke over his rugged face. 
Striking his hands together with a loud noise, he 
exclaimed : 

“By Hercules, I see your drift I” 

Diomedes smiled. 

“The triumvir will be convinced that he has 
accused the queen unjustly,” he said, calmly. 

“Fool that I was,” exclaimed the old soldier, 
“not to have foreseen this, and endeavored to calm 
the general. With her boundless ambition and 
sensuous nature, she covets Antony and the Ro- 
man Empire. She would like to sway Rome and 
the triumvir. Her only ambition is to rule one 
day at the Capitol. I remember ! I remember ! 
Have I not already seen Csesar a tool to all her 
plans, and obey her voice like one of her own 
subjects ? She it was whom imperial Csesar loved 
so much that Rome had pity on him, revolted, 
proscribed Cleopatra, and Csesar left her. But 
for a long time, in spite of all, he remained faith- 
ful to her. Antony will have a worse fate than 
that of Csesar, his model. Where Cs?sar tottered, 
Antony will fall,” 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 13 

“I think as you,” responded Diomedes. “More- 
over, when Caesar loved her she was very young, 
and she had the beauty of an ignorant child, who 
smiles for the sake of smiling and fascinates at 
hazard. Now, all is united in her : nature and art, 
grace and wit, and even science combine to give 
her supreme beauty. It is vain to seek to resist 
her marvellous attractions. At sight of her, one 
torgets in an instant all the evil that is said of 
her, and an invisible power chains you at her 
feet.” 

Diomedes ceased, but Ventidius made no reply; 
His thoughts were busy, and a great fear rested 
upon him. The battle-scarred veteran adored the 
general who had led his legions so often to vic- 
tory, and his heart grew cold at the thought of 
this new peril which threatened his master and 
Rome. He remembered only too well the strange 
charm of Egypt’s queen, and he knew thoroughly 
Antony’s pleasure-loving nature. He was certain 
that he did not overestimate the danger. But 
how to save Antony ? For Antony’s safety meant 
the safety of Rome. The destiny of the empire, 
trembling in the balance, depended upon a single 
man. Antony was Rome’s only hope. He alone 
could restrain the soaring ambition of Octavius. 


14 


SARBOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


Lepidus was only a puppet, a plaything. In the 
triumvirate he was simply a name, he counted for 
nothing. Without Antony, Octavius would he 
dangerous; to have the power shared by them 
maintained the equilibrium. If Antony were to 
fall a victim to the wiles of the royal siren, two 
dangers would threaten Rome : Either the queen 
would bend Antony to her will, in which case the 
Orient would command the Occident, or the war- 
rior would be lulled to sleep in the soft embraces 
of love, and the Senate would fall into the power 
of Octavius. Rome would be either at the mercy 
of Cleopatra or at the mercy of Csesar. 

Ventidius turned again to the Egyptian ambas- 
sador. Diomedes had arrived two days before at 
Tarsus and had been confided to the care of the 
honest old Roman. The latter, with all his blunt 
frankness, was a keen judge of men, and he soon 
saw that Cleopatra’s messenger was not too loyal 
to his queen, and, for some reason or other, would 
be glad to ingratiate himself with the Romans. 

“May it not be impossible for the queen to 
come, as she has promised ?” he asked. “Did you 
not tell me that her people were conspiring 
against her, and were discontented with her rule ? 
May she not be forced to remain?” 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATEA. 


15 


“No,” replied the Egyptian, “there are some 
malcontents who whisper revolt. Bnt my coun- 
trymen are a docile race. Her reign is a gentle 
one, and they love her in spite of all. The great- 
est of crimes do not revolt them. If their gods 
are respected, that is all that they ask; they adore 
evil, when their gods command it. You can 
decimate them, load them with taxes, without 
rousing them to action. But if you kill in the 
sacred forest an ostrich or an ibis, war is declared. 
Gallus met his doom because a Roman chanced to 
kill a cat that crossed his path. The people, us- 
ually so tranquil, were driven to fury. Gallus 
took refuge in the port, and two thousand Romans 
perished — for a cat. No, the queen respects both 
gods and priests, who govern the people and are 
its masters. As a queen, she does her duty, and 
her scepter is held with a firm, sure hand.” 

As the Egyptian finished speaking, Ventidius 
cast upon him a look of mingled surprise and sus- 
picion. 

“You utter strange words,” he said sharply, 
“for one who is an Egyptian himself.” 

Diomedes flushed darkly. 

“Pardon me,” he began ; “I ” 

But he was interrupted by a blare of trumpets. 


16 


SAliDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


The great triumvir was approaching. There were 
a stir and movement throughout the surging 
crowd, and the soldiers were obliged to use force 
to keep the people back. In another moment 
Antony, surrounded by his lieutenants, issued 
from the market-house and appeared upon the 
platform of the portico. 

At the same moment, from a house at the op- 
posite side of the square, appeared a dozen or so 
men, chained two and two together, and guarded 
by Roman soldiers. These were prominent citi- 
zens of Tarsus, who had been leaders in the re- 
cent rebellion. 

As Mark Antony stood gazing down upon the 
people he had come to punish, he made a very 
imposing figure and looked every inch the soldier 
he was. He was in the full dress of a Roman 
imperator ; a cuirass of closely fitting white leather, 
held in place by chains of gold, a toga and mantle 
of the purple of Tyre, and upon his feet white 
sandals. His head, with its mass of closely curl- 
ing chestnut locks, was uncovered. There was a 
deep frown upon his brow, and his blue eyes 
flashed ominously. 

The trumpets ceased. The prisoners were 
now at the foot of the scarlet covered steps. 


SAUDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


17 


Antony looked down upon them, and kis face grew 
darker still. 

“You, notables of Tarsus, are accused of giving 
aid and encouragement to tbe miserable assassins 
of noble Caesar. Have you augbt to say in your 
defense ?” 

For an instant there was silence, and then one 
of tbe prisoners, an old man witb long white hair, 
said, in a trembling voice : 

“Naught, my good lord, save to crave your 
clemency.” 

“Clemency ! Were those murderers clement ? 
But there is one I‘ do not see among you — she 
who was the instigator of it all ! So, it seems that 
she has refused to obey our commands. The hour 
has come, and the proud wanton is not here ! I 
wait no longer !” 

Then, raising his hand with a gesture of com- 
mand, he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder : 

“Away with these men ! Deliver them to the 
executioner !” 

But the words had scarcely died upon his lips 
when over the terror-stricken multitude stole 
softly the strains of enchanting music, and in an- 
other moment, around the promontory, upon the 


18 


SAltDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


blue waters of the Cydnus appeared tbe sbimmer 
of rose-colored sails. 

A migbty shout went up from a thousand 
throats. 

“Cleopatra ! Cleopatra 1 She is here ! She is 
here 1” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


19 


CHAPTER II. 

THE VICTOR VANQUISHED. 

A look of triumph flashed across the handsome 
face of the triumvir. So ! this haughty queen 
had been forced to obey his commands. With a 
gesture, he stopped the soldiers who were about 
to lead away the prisoners. 

Nearer and nearer, propelled by fifty oarsmen, 
swept the barge, until it reached the flight of 
marble steps that led down to the water’s edge. 
A magnificent sight it was ! The stem of the 
superb galley was of beaten gold, the sails of the 
palest rose color, and all the cordage of twisted 
silk ; garlands of flowers hung from mast to mast, 
and were strewn over the decks which were cov- 
ered with rare and costly cloths. Fifty Nubian 
slaves, with backs like gleaming jet, kept time 
with their silvered oars to the soft music of harps 
and flutes. Glistening censers sent forth their 
clouds of perfumed incense. Beautiful women, 


20 SAUDOU’S OLEOFATHA. 

robed as nereids and sirens, leaned against tbe 
masts or bnng over tbe sides of the barge, cast- 
ing flowers in the gleaming waters, while little 
naked boys, in the guise of cupids, fanned them 
with their painted wings. And in the center, 
beneath a canopy resplendent with embroideries 
of gold and silver, upon pale blue cushions 
bestrewn with lilies, reclined the Diamond of the 
East, the fairest woman beneath the skies. She 
was clad in a loosely flowing robe of shimmering 
gold colored gauze, through which gleamed the 
rosy radiance of her limbs. About her waist was 
a sash, embroidered with emeralds, rubies, ame- 
thysts and topazes. Magnificent jewels blazed 
upon her arms and bosom, and on her head was 
a coronet formed of diamond stars ; golden san- 
dals confined her little white feet ; over all was 
thrown a vail embroidered with odd designs in 
gold and silver, and through its meshes, floated, 
like a star through the mist, her marvelous 
beauty. 

As the barge stopped, Cleopatra, with slow, 
languid, grace, arose from her reclining posture, 
and like a new Venus Anadyomene issuing from 
the waves, she disembarked. Supported by two 
of her women, one of whom was her favorite 


iSARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


21 


maid, Charmian, she moved, in an atmosphere of 
perfumes and harmony, across the marble-paved 
square, to the foot of the steps at the top of which 
stood her judge, the triumphant general who had 
ordered her into his presence. 

With arms crossed over her breast, and hold- 
ing in this way her glistening vail before her face, 
she bent in low reverence before him, while all 
the great crowd stood silent and motionless, breath- 
lessly awaiting the result of this interview, which 
was or such vast consequence to them all. 

The brow pf the Roman general grew stem. 

“So,” he said, in a cold, measured voice, “Cle- 
opatra has deigned at last to come and answer for 
her treachery. It was time !” 

The queen raised her head, and, made an 
almost imperceptible gesture to Charmian, who 
lifted the vail that covered her mistress. Slowly 
it slipped back from her head and glided to the 
ground, lying in a fleecy, shimmering mass about 
her feet ; and Antony, for the first time, looked 
upon that perfect face, that was to haunt him, 
henceforth, forever. 

Egypt’s queen was in the full prime of her 
glorious beauty. Her figure was superb, stately 
and graceful, with the exquisite rounded outlines 


82 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


of one of tlie Graces of Apelles. Her heavy blue- 
black bair grew low over tbe perfect forehead ; 
her nose was as straight and clear cut as that of 
a cameo, with rose-tinted nostrils, sensitive and 
palpitating at each emotion like those of an amor- 
ous tigress ; a delicate flush, like the tint of a rose- 
leaf, tinged the creamy pallor of her cheeks ; her 
mouth was small, with the upper lip disdainfully 
arched, but the unbridled passion of her nature 
blazed in the scarlet, dewy luster of the lower 
one ; a rounded chin, full of force and mastery, 
terminated worthily her charming profile. But 
the dominating, resplendent glory of her whole 
face were her eyes, with the almost straight line 
of the brows and the long, curling black lashes. 
Dark and velvety, with tawny reflections, there 
was in them an indescribable commingling of 
sensuous languor and passionate fire. 

Antony bent forward and he involuntarily 
caught his breath, as one does when suddenly 
brought into the presence of some masterpiece c f 
surpassing beauty. 

With a smile, half soft, half scornful, she raised 
her lovely eyes to his face; and then on his 
greedy ears fell the low, musical tones of the en- 
chantress who was destined to subjugate him : 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


23 


“How shall I plead my cause, when you, my 
judge, already have condemned me ?” 

It was unaccountable that his heart should 
have bounded so at her voice. He passed his 
hand over his eyes as one dazzled at the rays of 
the sun god ; and it was with a softness of tone 
and manner which belied the words themselves, 
that he replied : 

“You have instigated the inhabitants of this 
city of Tarsus to rebellion; you have been in 
league with the conspirators and aided them by 
all the means in your power.” 

“If it pleases my lord to believe this and ruin 
me, then I’ll be guilty.” 

“Guilty ! Ah ! would that it were otherwise !” 

Her lips parted, showing two rows of gleaming 
pearls, as she flashed upon him an intoxicating 
smile ; with sinuous, panther-like grace, she 
moved a step or two nearer. 

“I thank my lord,” she said, in the same mel- 
lifluous tones, “and since my innocence will not 
ofiend, I will not blush to own it.” 

Her eyes were still fixed upon his face, and as 
she stood there in an attitude of supreme grace, 
she looked, in her gleaming draperies, like some 
beautiful golden bird who watches nonchalantly 


21 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


her prey, knowing that it will soon be in her 
power. 

Antony flushed scarlet, and the veins stood out 
like cords upon his forehead. He was rapidly 
becoming drunk with the sight of her incompar- 
able loveliness. 

But there was one who stood not far from him 
who was not in the least blinded by the fascina- 
tions of the wily queen. The heart of honest old 
Ventidius was sore within him as he recognized 
that his worst forebodings would rapidly become 
reality. 

“Blush !” he thought angrily to himself, as he 
caught the queen’s last words. “I believe she’d 
blush at nothing.” 

“Speak, oh queen,” said the triumvir, in a voice 
which sounded mufiled. “Speak, I listen.” 

“My lord,” said Cleopatra, “I have been falsely 
accused. True, I did send gold and arms, but 
not to the conspirators. They were sent to the 
avengers of Caesar. By either treachery or acci- 
dent, my projects miscarried.” 

“Then, by Hercules — ” began Antony. 

But she raised her hand to implore silence. 

“Not yet, my lord ! I will be absolutely frank, 
and so I have a confession still to make. It is 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


25 


reported tliat I hate Rome. No ! I do not hate 
Rome nor — nor Antony. What I hate is Octa- 
vius !” Oh ! matchless siren ! How well she 
knew the bitter feelings existing between the two 
triumviri, who were men of exactly opposite 
characters except in the one quality common to 
both — ambition. “And now, my lord, speak, for 
I end here. Pronounce my sentence.” 

Sentence. Ah ! the places are reversed ; the 
criminal is saved, the judge condemned. 

Slowly, as if impelled by some invincible power 
that drew him as a magnet in spite of himself, he 
descended the steps and stood at her side. 

“I believe you,” he said, in low, thrilling tones ; 
“forgive my base suspicions.” 

She looked up at him, with a light, joyous 
laugh, musical as rippling waters. 

“And these poor people of Tarsus ?” she asked, 
with a wave of her white arm which was more 
powerful to conquer nations, than the iron mus- 
cles of the warrior. 

Trembling, wholly vanquished, he took her 
hand in his ; she did not withdraw it. Then, he 
led her up the steps, and standing by her side, 
before the chair of judgment, he cried out to the 
expectant people : 


26 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“The great queen has won your pardon. Tar- 
sus is forgiven. Rome demands neither lives 
nor tribute.” 

For an instant, there was silence ; and then a 
mighty shout went up which rent the heavens, 
and then another and another. The people, thus 
suddenly freed from the threatened danger, were 
frantic with delight. The prisoners prostrated 
themselves in gratitude at the foot of the steps. 

Cleopatra gazed at the scene with a radiant 
look of conscious power and gratified triumph. 
She had won ! 

Amidst all the enthusiasm, Ventidius stood 
apart, with folded arms and gloomy brow. He 
glanced at the galley, lying idly on the Cydnus, 
with its wealth of gorgeous decorations and 
crowded with fantastically arrayed figures; and 
then to the portico of the market-house. The 
queen’s women were reclining upon the steps in 
attitudes of picturesque abandon. Cleopatra her- 
self was seated in the chair with the gilded 
Roman eagles, her delicate draperies half con- 
cealing, half revealing the ravishing lines of her 
faultless figure, Antony stood beside her, a look 
of passionate admiration on his handsome, manly 
face. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


27 


As he turned away his eyes from this p icture 
which was so painful to him, Ventidius heard a 
low voice murmur in his ear : 

“Well, did I not prophecy aright ?” 

He turned suddenly and faced the Egyptian 
ambassador, Diomedes. 

“Yes,” he muttered, angrily, “bird of ill omen 
that you are. He is lost, and we are lost with 
him. Oh ! woman ! all the gods have not such 
power of doing good as you of doing evil.” 

“Your master wants you,” said Diomedes. 

The old warrior faced quickly about and saw 
Antony motioning him to approach. Slowly 
and reluctantly he advanced to the portico. 

“Ventidius,” said Antony, “tell these good peo- 
ple to disperse.” 

Ventidius bowed, and, striding forward to the 
edge of the platform, he raised his hand with a 
gesture of command. , 

By degrees, the cheers died away, 

“It is the triumvir’s wish,” he cried, in a sten- 
torian voice, “that you retire to your homes and 
places of business. The trial is ended.” 

Gradually, the people obeyed, and soon, save 
for the soldiers, the broad square was deserted. 

Ventidius joined the Roman ofdcers who had 


28 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


retired to the back of the platform, and Antony 
and Cleopatra were left virtually alone. 

Strains of music from the musicians on the 
barge stirred gently the soft air. 

He bent over until his cheeks almost brushed 
her fragrant hair. 

“Royal Egypt,” he murmured, in a voice that 
he vainly endeavored to steady, “are you satis- 
fied?” 

Languorously she threw back her head, slowly 
the heavy fringed lids were raised, and the mid- 
night eyes plunged into his. Involuntarily he 
caught his breath, and like the helpless bird 
beneath the charm of the serpent, he was con- 
scious of nothing save the fascination of her 
gaze. 

“Satisfied !” she repeated, in tones more melo- 
dious than those of the lutes. “Noble Antony, 
it is for you to answer that. You sent for me, 
and I have come. Are you satisfied ?” 

“I sent for Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, and 
Venus, Queen of Beauty, has come.” 

She removed her eyes from his face, and her 
color deepened just a little. 

“Ah!” she murmured, as if half to herself. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


29 

“would indeed I were Venus, then could I con. 
quer this Mars.” 

Mad with love, drunk with passion, forgetful 
of all else on earth save this one woman, he sank 
on one knee at her side. 

“Behold him at your feet I Cleopatra, queen, 
goddess, I love you !” 

There was a moment of silence. Both hearts 
beat fast, his with ardent longing, hers with 
exultant triumph. Then she said, dreamily : 

“Love ! Ah ! what is man’s love ? A passing 
fancy, the gi'atification of a moment. Such is not 
the love I demand ! I would wish the absolute 
surrender of self, entire, utter devotion. The 
man whose love I accept must be ready to give 
up all, to welcome disgrace even and count it a 
priceless boon if it were the result of his winning 
me. He must have no ambition save to be near 
me, no glance that was not for me, no thought 
that was not mine. The rest of the world must 
not exist for him. Such a man, ah, such a man 
I could love,” 

She ceased. With glowing cheeks and eyes 
ablaze, Antony cried, impetuously : 

“I am that man ! I am ready to sacrifice all, 


30 


SARDOU’S OLEOPATItA. 


friends, wife, country, an empire, everything for 
a single kiss !” 

As she heard these impassioned words, the 
queen’s heart stirred for a moment with a some- 
thing that was not wholly satisfied vanity. Bend- 
ing toward him with a gesture that was almost a 
caress, she laid her white hand on his arm, and 
he felt the blood mount to his brain at that thrill- 
ing touch. 

“The waters of the Cydnus are cold,” she said, 
in a half whisper, “while the warm rays of the 
sun kiss the banks of the Nile.” 

The answer came, without a moment’s hesita- 
tion. 

“Lead on ! Where you go, I follow.” 

As the light of dawn quivering upon the hill- 
tops wakes to life the fairness of nature, the 
queen’s smile brightened her face into unspeak- 
able loveliness. 

She arose, and holding out her hand, said, in 
her crystalline voice : 

“Come, then !” 

He sprang to his feet, and, trembling in every 
limb, took her hand in his. 

“Oh ! Star of the Orient, Queen of Love, take 


SARboVS CL EO PATH A. 31 

me where you will. My life commences from 
to-day.” 

Hand in hand, they proceeded across the 
square, between the lines of wondering soldiers, 
to where the royal barge was waiting to receive 
them, and bear them away to the land of the ris- 
ing sun. 

Beneath the witchery of the siren, the judge’s 
anger had melted like snow beneath a July sun. 
The great general, whom no legions of armed 
men could move a hair’s breadth, had capitulated 
without resistance to a woman’s smile. Bound 
in chains softer than velvet, stronger than steel, 
the mighty triumvir was reduced to slavery. 

Vae victis I 


32 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE GREEK SLAVE. 

It was the hour just before dawn; the roofs of 
Memphis had not yet caught the first flash of the 
sunlight, and the inhabitants were still fast bound 
in the embrace of the sleepy god, when a slender, 
girlish figure, so closely wrapped in the volumin- 
ous folds of her dark-colored peplum that even 
her face was concealed, emerged from a dark, nar- 
row street into the square before the most mag- 
nificent temple of this city of magnificent temples, 
the Iseum, or Temple of Isis, built four centuries 
before by Amasis the Second. 

The girl gave a quick glance about her, and 
then, hurriedly crossing the square, she proceeded 
round the side of the temple until she came to a 
small wooden door, set in heavy blocks of 
Syenitic granite. Upon this door she struck three 
distinct blows, followed after an interval of a few 
seconds by three more. Then, placing her ear 


SAUDOU’S CLEOPATHA. 


33 


close to the wooden partition, she listened intently. 
Shortly she heard the sound of footsteps within, 
and a deep voice asked : 

“Who is there ?” 

“It is I, uncle — Iras. Open ! Open, quickly !” 

There was the sound of the withdrawal of bolts 
and the rattle of chains ; the door swung open, 
and on the threshold appeared the tall figure of 
an old man. The lamp which he held aloft in 
his hand lighted up a face strong in intellect. 
His hair was white, and a long white beard fell 
almost to his waist. He was dressed in the snowy 
garments of a priest of Isis. 

“What, Iras !” he exclaimed. “You here, at 
this hour ? What has happened ?” 

“Let me in at once, uncle,” was the hurried re- 
ply. “I have much to say to you.” 

He gave her a keen glance, and then, without a 
word, turned and led the way through a long, low 
corridor to a small, meagerly furnished apartment. 
Setting down the lamp, he motioned his visitor to 
be seated. 

The girl threw back her peplum, revealing a 
delicate face, with great blue eyes, and crowned 
by masses of golden hair. 

“Oh, uncle !” she exclaimed, nervously clasping 


34 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


and unclasping her -small hands, hardly larger 
than a child’s, “is it yet time ?” 

“Time, Iras ?” said the old man. “I do not 
understand you. Compose yourself, my child, 
compose yourself.” 

“He has not yet come ?” 

“He? Who?” 

“Pharon.” 

“Pharon ? Oh ! the slave who is to die at day- 
break.” 

“Yes. And, oh, it is terrible — terrible ! I could 
not sleep. And then I thought of you. Unele, 
you alone can save him, if you will. He is so 
young to die.” 

“Save him, Iras. That is impossible. The 
great queen has commanded his death, and it is 
for me to see that her orders are carried out. I 
know nothing of him or of his offense.” 

“You know nothing 1” she exclaimed in sur- 
prise. 

“Nothing!” 

“Let me tell you! Perhaps, then, you will 
have pity.” 

He motioned to her to proceed, and, in broken 
accents, Iras hurriedly told her tale. 

Two weeks before, when Cleopatra, with her 


MlWOti’S CLEOPATRA. 


35 


maids, Cliarmian and Iras, was returning in the 
royal cangia from the festival of Hermonthis, a 
man, rising from the rushes of the Nile, cast into 
the boat, at the feet of the royal occupant, masses 
of flowers, blue and white lilies. Then, plunging 
into the water, followed, swimming in the wake 
of the vessel. Cleopatra raised the flowers, and 
said, with a smile : “It is the Nile, the god of 
waters.” But Charmian was alarmed, and, fear- 
ing the man had some evil designs, prevailed 
upon her mistress to give orders to have the pre- 
sumptuous swimmer arrested as soon as they 
should land. The command was carried out, and 
the young man was brought into the presence of 
the queen by Kephren, the captain of the royal 
guard. 

“Are you some assassin sent by Rome,” de- 
manded the queen, severely, “that you have thus 
persistently followed us ?” 

The young man sank on his knees, as if be- 
fore an altar of the gods, and stretched out his 
hands in supplication ; 

“May Zeus punish me as I deserve,” he ex- 
claimed, passionately, “if I have ever nourished 
any evil design toward you. Oh, queen !” 

Sincerity and truth were depicted upon his 


se 


SARDOIf’S CLIWRATRA. 


countenance; Cleopatra abandoned at once the 
idea that bad been suggested by Cbarmian ; and, 
fixing upon him a less severe look, she asked : 

“You swear by strange gods. You are not an 
Egyptian.” 

“My name is Pharon. I am a Greek, and a 
slave, one of the boatmen of the port.” 

“But why did you so persistently follow the 
cangia ?” 

The Greek turned pale as death. He raised 
his eyes, and fixed them full upon the queen’s 
face. 

“I love you !” he answered, in low, thrilling 
tones. 

Very handsome he was, as he knelt there ; and 
so thought the queen, with her keen sense of 
beanty. She leaned toward him, and seizing his 
arm, with a sudden movement, she eried : 

“So, yon have raised your eyes to a queen ! 
You have no mediocre ambition. You expected 
doubtless to have your love returned. Well, why 
not ?” 

“Queen,” responded Pharon, with the deepest 
melaneholy, “I implore you, do not jest. I am 
mad, I know, and after the declaration I have 


BABDOU'S CLEOPATBA. 


37 


made I deserve death. Send me forth to my 
fate.” 

“No, it is my caprice to be clement to-day ; I 
give you your life.” 

“What shall I do with my life ? I love you.” 

“Well, then,” responded Cleopatra in a strange 
tone, “you shall be satisfied — you shall die. 
You have been pleased to indulge in a strange, 
extravagant dream ; you imagined that you were 
Caesar, and you loved the queen. What you 
thought impossible of accomplishment, I will 
make possible. It pleases me for once to realize 
a mad desire. I will take you from nothingness, 
make you the equal of a god, and then plunge 
you into nothingness again. But do not call me 
cruel, and implore my pity, when the price for a 
few hours of happiness has to be paid. You say 
that you love me. I accept your love. But — in 
ten days you die. Rise, and give me your hand !” 

The ten days had expired, and this morning at 
daybreak, within the Temple of Isis, Pharon, the 
Greek, was to fulfill his part of the bargain and 
render up his life. 

As Iras finished the recital of this strange story 
her uncle, Serapion, grand priest of Isis and royal 
astronomer, slowly stroked his long, white beard, 


38 SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 

“All !” he thought to himself, “she is a queen 
always, but also always a woman. Through all 
her weakness, one sees her royalty. She proceeds 
calmly on her way, defiant of opinion, deserving 
perhaps only hatred, but inspiring only love.” 

“Uncle,” murmured Iras, covering her face with 
her hands, “to-day he is to die.” 

“Why not ?” responded the old man. “He ac- 
cepted the bargain. A queen has loved him, and 
the slave must die.” 

Iras raised her head. 

“Slave !” she repeated. “Ah ! you should see 
him. No ! the queen was right when she called 
him the god of the Nile. In my country the 
women are often loved by the god of the Scaman- 
der. Woe to her who rests too long upon the 
river’s perfumed shores ! He seizes her by her 
floating locks and bears her away to the deep 
grottoes beneath the waves. Her friends mourn 
and seek for her in vain. The river god loves 
her so much that he loves her forever.” 

- “Child !” said Serapion, smiling indulgently. 
“These are but old wives’ tales. The old Nile has 
no such delightful caprices. I don’t know why I 
listen to such folly.” 

*‘But if he were a king,” persisted the youn^ 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


39 


girl, “who, the better to succeed, employed a 
stratagem ?” 

“Kings are not so easily condemned to death.” 

A look of terror crept into the girl’s blue eyes, 
and she sprang hurriedly to her feet. 

“Condemned to death !” she echoed. “True ! 
and I stay chattering here. Uncle ! the queen is 
cruel ! Oh, I am not a queen ! Slave though he 
be, he is a Greek — he is of my country.” 

“It is not for you, Iras, nor for me to judge the 
queen,” replied the priest, gravely. “This man 
is condemned ; what matters to us his crime ? 
What matters to us whether he lives or dies ?” 

“To you nothing, perhaps. To me every- 
thing.” 

“Iras !” 

“Yes,” she continued, impetuously, “every- 
thing. I love him. I know that with your 
knowledge you can save him. I swear to you, if 
you refuse, not one life will be sacrificed, but two. 
For I will not survive him.” 

The old man caught her by the wrist. 

“Girl !” he exclaimed, “you are mad !” 

“Perhaps ! But I will do what I say.” 

The old priest was greatly agitated. He saw 
that she was in earnest. If there was anything 


40 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


in the world that he cared for, it was this child of 
his dead sister — that sister who had been young 
enough to be his daughter, who twenty years be- 
fore had been wooed and won by a young Hellene, 
and who had sailed away from her native land, ' 
never to return. Both husband and wife were! 
dead, leaving one daughter, Iras, whom Serapionj 
had brought from Greece three years before. The 
queen had taken a fancy to the golden-haired, 
blue-eyed girl and had taken her into her own 
household, where she had become a great favorite 
with her royal mistress. 

Iras saw that her uncle was troubled, and she 
proceeded eagerly: 

“Uncle, dear uncle, you can save him ! You 
will save him ! For my sake ! Listen ! At day- 
break — soon, soon now — he is to be before the 
shrine of Isis, where Kephren, the captain of the 
guard, is to meet him, with a cup containing a 
new poison come from Thessaly. Uncle, what 
can be done ?” 

The priest stood lost in thought for a moment, 
and then, while Iras eagerly watched his every 
movement he turned and unlocked a small cabi- 
net which was imbedded in the wall of the room. 
Within were vials of all sizes and shapes. With 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


41 


great care lie selected one, and then closed and 
locked the door. 

“I will do what I can,” he said, slowly. “This 
is a powerful antidote, which has saved more than 
one victim, but whether it will have its effect in 
this case I cannot say.” 

As he spoke, a slender ray of light pierced 
through the low-barred window. Iras uttered a 
cry of alarm. 

“Look ! It is dawn ! The hour has come 1” 

Serapion took her hand. 

“Come !” he said. 

He led her down the long corridor. At the end 
was a heavy door, which he pushed open, and be- 
fore them appeared the interior of the Temple of 
Isis, with its lofty columns, covered with strange 
devices and inscriptions, its pavement of mosaic 
and its walls and dome stained in brilliant colors. 
At one end was the shrine of Isis, with the effigy 
of the Holy Mother herself The shadows of the 
night still lay heavy within the temple, but Iras’ 
sharp young eyes soon perceived through the 
gloom the figure of a slender young man, who was 
standing with clasped hands before the gilde4 
railing. 


a 


SAIIDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“He is there,” she whispered, beneath her 
breath. , 

Serapion drew her into the shadow of one of 
the pillars. 

“Wait here,” he said, “and not a word, not a 
sound.” 

Before the shrine of the great goddess the 
young man stood motionless. Slowly the light 
of day stole into the sacred place, chasing away 
the dusky shadows. Suddenly the silence was 
broken by the clatter of a horse’s hoofs without, 
the hangings which vailed the great entrance were 
thrust aside and there strode into the temple a 
man of powerful build, with a strong, dark face 
and heavy black beard. 

The newcomer advanced until he reached the 
side of the young Greek, who turned to meet 
him. 

“At last,” said Pharon, in a low tone. “The 
dawn is close at hand. If you had delayed longer 
I should have seen the light of another day. I 
have sworn that never again should my eyes be- 
hold Helios, the king of the skies. I swore it by 
the Styx. Kephren, would you make me a per- 
,urer ? Did you do me the injury to doubt me ?” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


43 


“No,” replied tlie other. “I had your word, and 
the poison is ready.” 

“Give it to me.” 

Kephren drew from beneath his cloak a small 
cup, covered with a lid, and handed it to the young 
man. 

The Greek took it into his hands, and then, in 
a clear voice, which had in it no suspicion of 
trembling, he said : 

“You will tell her that I die without a regret.” 

But Kephren laid his hand upon his arm. 

“What !” he said, “so careless in this your 
last hour ? There is still time for prayer. Bid, 
at least, your farewell to life. You must not die 
without invoking your gods.” 

Pharon gently shook off the restraining hand, 
and raising his eyes to the dome, through the 
openings of which the light was gradually stream- 
ing stronger and stronger, he spoke as follows ; 

“Oh ! Daughter of the Night ! Oh ! implaca- 
ble goddess ! Thou who hast no temple, and 
whom the sons of men fear to adore ! Thou whom 
the unhappy, when misfortune overwhelms them, 
alone dare to address! Oh, Death 1 to thy em- 
braces a mad love has consigned me I Spread thy 
dark wipgs and appear at my call I A woman 


44 SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 

reigned over a people without number. Kings 
and gods were driven mad with her beauty. I 
was a slave, and I loved her in secret. I could 
never approach, nor hear her, but I followed her 
everywhere to catch a glimpse of her vail or her 
hand. One day I was brought into her presence. 
Oh ! Aphrodite ! all thy flames burned in my 
veins. To find favor in her eyes one must be a 
hero; hut I said: ‘Queen, I am a slave, but I love 
you, and I ask for death.’ And the new Isis 
whom Egypt worships deigned to smile upon the 
slave of the port. Come, then. Death! I am 
ready to depart for thy somber shores. Take my 
youth, my life, and my future, but let me bear 
away to the shades the memory of her smile. 
Cleopatra is so beautiful ! Save me from forget- 
fulness I Torture me as thou wilt in Hades, hut 
let me suffer for her, let my love be my torment. 
Leave to my eyes her adored image, leave to my 
lips her cherished name 1 I place myself in thy 
hands, oh. Death ! but on my icy forehead let the 
print remain of the kisses of her who made me a 
king!” 

He ceased, and the first bright beam of the 
rising sun glided through the roof, and rested 
full upon his fair, upturned face. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


45 


With a quick motion, he raised the cup to his 
lips and drained it to the dregs. An ashen pale- 
ness overspread his cheeks, he staggered, and, 
with a long sigh, fell prostrate upon the ground. 

A low cry broke from the lips of the girl hidden 
behind the pillar, and she would certainly have 
rushed forth if Serapion had not thrown his 
arms about her and prevented her doing so. 

At this cry the captain of the guard turned 
quickly, but all was still again ; and, thinking 
doubtless that it was an effect of his imagination, 
he fixed his eyes again upon the form that lay 
prone at his feet. 

“Poor slave!” he murmured, half regretfully. 
“And yet you are happier than I. For you have 
lived, while the passion that consumes me is hope- 
less.” 

With a gesture as if to sweep aside the vision 
that rose before him he hastily walked away, the 
sound of his footsteps resounding hollowly through 
the vast edifice. 

The hangings had scarcely fallen behind him 
when Iras, followed more slowly by the old priest, 
rushed from her place of concealment and sank 
on her knees beside Pharon’s unconscious body. 

“Quick, uncle, quick!” she gasped. 


43 SARDOtT’S CLEORATRA. 

Serapion cast one look at the white face of the 
slave. 

“It is too late, I fear,” he said. 

“No! No!' He breathes still.” 

Serapion handed to his niece the vial he had 
taken from his room. 

“Let him inhale it.” 

Iras lifted Pharon’s head, and resting it in her 
lap, held the vial close to his nostrils. Scarcely 
daring to breathe, she watched for some sign of 
returning life. After some minutes, which were 
a long agony to the poor girl, the color slowly 
came back to the pale cheeks, and a long, shiver- 
ing sigh issued from his lips. 

Serapion bent over, and scrutinized him closely. 

“The man is saved!” he said, at last. “I will 
answer for him now.” 

Iras uttered an exclamation of rapturous relief, 
and her happy tears fell upon the face in her lap. 

“He will need careful nursing,” continued Se- 
rapion. “Can you help me to carry him ? He 
must not remain here.” 

“Can I ?” she answered bravely, looking up with 
wet lashes. “I will.” r 

Serapion, in his youth, had been a man of pow- 
erful muscles, and he still retained much of his 


SABDOlPS CLEOPATUA. 


47 


former strength. Putting his arms beneath the 
unconscious man’s shoulders, he raised him from 
the ground, and, assisted by Iras, bore him away 
to a narrow, vaulted cell beneath the floor of the 
temple. In the room was a pallet, on which he 
deposited his burden. 

“He will be safe here for the present,” he said. 
“Remain with him until I return with a potion 
that is needed to give him back his strength and 
complete his cure.” 

Iras, alone with the man she had been instru- 
mental in snatching from the very jaws of death, 
sank down beside him, and taking one of his 
hands in hers, raised it to her fresh young lips. 
She loved him, and without the shadow of hope ; 
for he, whose eyes had looked upon the incompar- 
able beauty of that royal Circe, who captured 
hearts only to cast them away dry and withered, 
would never learn to care for the modest sweetness 
of her Grecian handmaiden. What mattered that, 
however, at this moment ? He was saved, and 
the bosom of the gentle girl swelled with infinite 
thankfulness. 


48 


SARD 0 ITS CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN THE LAND OF THE LOTUS. 

In the magnificent palace of Rameses the 
Great, Cleopatra, the Queen, is holding high 
revelry, in honor of her illustrious guest. 

Here, on the confines of the great Libyan des- 
ert, their life, for a month, has been an uninter- 
rupted succession of festivals, hunting parties, 
luxurious feasts and voluptuous orgies. In her 
festivities each day more magnificent, in her re- 
pasts each day more sumptuous, in her ever 
increasing follies, the brilliant queen has taxed 
the resources of her kingdom. Her prodigality 
was unbounded. If the Falemian wines appeared 
insipid to her, she cast pearls in the cup to flavor 
it with melted jewels. Nothing could moderate 
the splendid recklessness of her caprices. Antony 
was astounded, blinded, intoxicated. And yet he 
was no novice in the art of gorgeous entertain- 
ment. Once, when the supper was good, he had 
presented a house to his cook. Dressed as Bac- 


BARDOirs CLKOPATRA. 


49 


chus, he had driven through the country in a 
gilded car drawn by lions, and attended by a glit- 
tering retinue of merry-makers. But all his pre- 
vious experiences paled into insignificance beside 
the superb spectacles of this month beneath the 
burning sun of Bgypt. In the arms of his beau- 
tiful mistress the mighty triumvir has forgotten 
the whole world. Rome is no longer but a name, 
a name without meaning and without value. He 
lives only in the love-light of Cleopatra’s dusky 
eyes ; the universe is enclosed for him in the 
embrace of those perfect arms which would make 
the boasted arms of Hebe appear like those of 
some slave employed in menial labor. 

And Cleopatra ? Hitherto, this mistress of the 
art of charming had remained insensible herself. 
Of all the passions she had inspired, none had 
been really shared; she had been loved more 
than any other woman, but she had never loved. 
If men dishonored themselves, mined themselves, 
died for her, she was indifferent to it all She 
was like a beautiful, impassible sphinx, who 
smiled a changeless, exquisite smile, while com- 
bats were fought to the death at the foot of the 
pedestal, where she reigned supreme. But, sud- 
denly, her sleeping heart had started with a 


50 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


bound into pulsing, throbbing life. The comedy 
she had played with such perfection of art at 
Tarsus had become a reality in Memphis, The 
marble-hearted beauty, whom no homage, not 
even that of the great Caesar, had ever touched 
to the quick, was now vanquished. With all the 
fiery, passionate temperament of a child of the 
sun, she now loved for the first time, loved so 
intensely as to cause deep suffering. If the light 
of the world shone for Antony from Cleopatra’s 
eyes, so did the queen find in the azure orbs of 
the Roman all the heaven she knew or cared for. 

To-day was to be a day of pleasures which 
should surpass all that had gone before. In the 
great hall of the palace, the grand festival was to 
take place — a hall of vast proportions, with walls 
of polished marble, inlaid with lapis lazuli, mala- 
chite and chalcedony. Enormous columns, em- 
blazoned with hieroglyphics, representing the 
exploits of gods and heroes, supported upon their 
acanthus capitals gigantic arches of sculptured 
granite. The roof was an intricate network of 
gold and silver, through the meshes of which 
could be seen the blue of the sky. Between each 
pillar were placed enormous statues, figures with 
heads of bulls, dogs, and elephants, who sat in 


SABBOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


61 


tlieir stone seats, impassive spectators of the gor- 
geous orgy beneath. Upon the floor were de- 
picted in intricate mosaic scenes from Grecian 
. mythology. One side of the hall was open to the 
air. Through arches of porphry could be seen 
a broad terrace, flanked on each side by a sphinx 
with oblique eyes and pointed chin, who cast into 
the hall a fixed, mysterious gaze. From the ter- 
race, flights of alabaster steps led down into the 
gardens, fllled with mimosas, aloes, lemon trees, 
and carob plants. Vases of rose marble were 
filled with flowers of brilliant and variegated 
hues. Sculptured nymphs poured forth from 
their urns streams of perfumed water which fell 
with a gentle tinkle into basins of silver. Be- 
yond flowed the Nile, and further still were the 
yellow sands of the desert. The massive tables 
groaned beneath the weight of rare viands 
brought at fabulous expense from all known 
countries. The wines of Crete, Falemum and 
the Massican hills sparkled and foamed in bowls 
of gold wreathed with flowers. Upon couches 
arranged in a semi-circle and covered with costly 
embroideries reclined in luxurious abandon the 
women of Cleopatra’s household and the compan- 
ions of Antony who had followed him into Egypt. 


52 


SARDOirS CLEOPATRA. 


Among these latter was not Ventidius ; the hon- 
est old veteran had returned to Rome filled with 
bitter regret at the weakness of the master he 
loved in spite of all. 

Among the revellers circulated Asiatic pages, 
supplying their wants and sprinkling them with 
perfumes. Musicians, stationed out of sight, 
filled the air with soft, voluptuous music. 

Upon a sort of throne, supported by golden 
griffins and strewn with rose leaves, sat side by 
side, Cleopatra and Antony. All about them 
were scattered lotus flowers, some of a creamy 
white, some of a celestial blue, and some of a ten- 
der rose color. Behind the throne^ stood Char- 
mian and Iras, the queen’s favorite attendants, 
waving to and fro large fans made of ibis plumes. 

Cleopatra was radiant; never had she been 
more beautiful. She wore a robe of a pale, dia- 
phanous blue, open at the sides and caught 
together with golden bees. About her slender 
waist was a girdle resplendent with gold and pre- 
cious stones. Over her shoulders was thrown 
the royal mantle of sapphire blue, heavy with 
marvelous embroidery, and upon the silken 
masses of her dark hair rested a crown of ser- 
pents with flashing ruby eyes. High up on her 


SARDOirS CLEOPATRA. 


53 


naked arms were twisted two strings of immense 
pearls. Priceless rings flashed upon her fingers 
and upon the toes of her bare feet, feet, with their 
nails as polished as onyx, more perfect than the 
alabaster feet of the goddess Isis. 

Antony, with his head resting upon Cleopatra’s 
shoulder, felt as if he had been transported by 
some magician into the realms of enchantment. 

At a sign from the queen, there swarmed into 
the center of the hall a motley crowd of dwarfs 
and painted buffoons who executed grotesque 
dances and combats. To them succeeded young 
Greek girls who performed a slow, swaying, 
voluptuous dance with marvelous unanimity of 
movement. Then Cleopatra, Egypt’s Queen, and 
Goddess Evergetes, among the immortals, arose 
from her throne, cast aside her royal mantle, re- 
placed her diadem of serpents with a wreath of 
lotus flowers, adjusted to her tiny hands crotali 
of gold, instruments not unlike the Spanish cas- 
tanets, and began to dance before Antony as half 
a century after Herodias danced before Herod. 
But while Herodias danced for a head, Cleopatra 
danced for a heart. With her beautiful rounded 
arms raised high above her head, and her lithe 
body balanced upon the tips of her rosy toes. 


54 


SARD 0 ITS CLEOPATRA. 


she advanced rapidly and brushed Antony’s fore- 
head with her lips. Then, retreating, she circled 
about him, sometimes leaning backward with 
half closed eyes and dishevelled hair like a Bac- 
chante in the festival of the god of the grape, and 
sometimes laughing and more capricious in her 
movements than a butterfly amidst the flowers. 
It was a marvelous exhibition of voluptuous 
grace and languorous passion. 

Antony’s blood bounded hotly through his 
veins, and more madly than ever did he adore 
this incomparable siren of the Nile. To love 
Cleopatra was to love twenty women, to love all 
women, she was so changeable, so variable, so 
many-sided — a veritable chameleon. She knew 
with a thousand arts how to awaken satiated pas- 
sion and to flx inconstancy itself. 

At last, flushed and panting, she threw herself 
down beside her lover, and, winding her arms 
about him, pillowed her head upon his breast. 
He strained her to him in a rapturous ecstasy. 

A smile that had something of sarcasm in it 
played about Charmian’s lips. She remembered 
Csesar. But a tear trembled on the lashes of the 
Greek girl, Iras. She was thinking of the slave 
who lay hidden in the cell beneath the temple of 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


65 


Isis, the slave, whom she loved so deeply, and, 
alas ! so hopelessly. 

“My love !” murmured Antony, passionately. 
“My love!” 

“My dear lord!”' 

“Your beauty is like strong, new wine. It 
maddens one. Each glance of your eyes pierces 
deeper than the shafts of Eros. Venus, they say, 
was once jealous of Psyche, but to-day, Hathor, 
as the goddess of lo\e is called in Egypt, must be 
jealous of Cleopatra.” 

With a quick motion, the queen raised her 
head. 

“Hush !” she exclaimed, with a shudder, half 
superstition, half fear. “Hush ! Do not tempt 
the anger of the gods !” 

Antony smiled. 

“What !” he said, “you, as brave and fierce as 
any of my warriors, afraid ?” 

“Not for myself! But for you ! Ah ! if aught 
should happen to part us now !” 

“What can happen ?” 

“I know not, but as you spoke, a premonition, 
as of something evil, seized upon me. My hero, 
I could not exist without you. My life is bound 
up in yours. My death will take place the same 


56 


SABDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


hour as yours. Charmian, summon Olympus 
before us.” 

Olympus was the physician whose duty it was 
to try new poisons, and, when a slave was con- 
demned to death, to administer the potion and 
watch the effects. 

“Olympus,” said Cleopatra, as the physician 
appeared, in obedience to her commands, and 
made obeisance before her, “I have sent to ques- 
tion you as to your last discovery. What fresh 
poison have you obtained from your researches ? 
Describe to me its effects ?” 

“Why now ask this?” said Antony. “Det our 
feast to-day be without its death’s head.” 

But, with the willfulness of a spoiled child, she 
laid her hand upon his lips. 

“Is there no deadly drug you can administer,” 
she continued, turning again to Olympus, “so 
that the victim after death will not be disfigured, 
but preserve still every trace of the beauty which 
existed in life ?” 

“Oh ! queen !” responded Olympus. “My art 
has not yet revealed to me what you demand.” 

“Then force your art ! When Cleopatra speaks, 
she is to be obeyed !” 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


57 


The physician folded his arms across his 
breast, and bowed his head in deep humility. 

“There is no drug,” he said, “but ” 

“But ? Speak, slave !” 

“But there is a worm of the Nile, whose sting 
is death. The victim dies without changing a 
muscle. The roses still linger on the cheek, and 
the soul takes its flight in a smile.” 

“Is the death painless ?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“It is well. I shall rem.ember. Retire.” 

Olympus bowed low, and turned away. 

Cleopatra raised her lovely eyes to the face of 
her lover, who had listened in amazement to this 
conversation, and, taking his hand, pressed it 
convulsively to her lips. 

“If I should lose you, my beloved,” she mur- 
mured, “I would follow you even into the shades 
of death. In the scales of Amenti, our souls will 
be weighed together. But you are right. To-day, 
let us drive the grim specter from us. Char- 
mian, a lute!” 

With her white fingers, she struck a few, faint, 
lingering chords, and then, in a voice, as sweet 
and vibrating as a crystal bell, she sang as fol- 
lows : 


68 


SABDOU^S CLEOFATRA. 


THE LEGEND OF NITOCRIS. 

Sleep, the High Priest of the world, had the universe shriven. 
Fresh in the breath of the morn stood the meadow and wold. 

Clad, as if in a robe of innocence given. 

In dew unsullied by the lust of the day growing old. 

Tinged by the mystical wand of the earliest rays of the morning 
Cloudlets fringed as with gold in an opal ocean swim. 

While through the orchard-aisles, the grace of the dawn adorn- 
ing, 

Fair and alone does Nitocris steal to the river’s brim. 

Sudden a noise in the reeds, the birds from their slumbering 
frightens ; 

.Still stands the maiden, intent, poised like a wave at its turn, 

While an Aurora-like flush o'er her features rises and lightens. 
Lest her but slightly-vailed charms a too early boatman dis- 
cern. 

But not so much as a ripple has shattered the glass of the river; 
Falls from her shoulders the tunic, when loosed is the clasp 
that had kept; 

Crossing her hands on her bosom, she stoops with an infantile 
shiver. 

To gaze in innocent pride at the sandals from which she has 
stept. 

Gleams her young form in the sun like old Neptune’s new- risen 
daughter, 

Mirrored below in the depths of the slow-flowing Nile. 

Prettily one little foot then timidly ripples the water, 

Mocks she the image destroyed, with the gleam of a banter- 
ing smile. 

Tripplingly over the waters, the sunlight sparkles and glances — 
Bosom and shoulder and limb with its vermil-hued pencil 
dyes. 


SAEBOU't: CLEOPATRA. 


Coyly, as if to a lover, the maid in the river advances: 

Gladly to welcome their mistress the wavelets caressingly rise. 

Gayly the swimmer snatches a lotus the currents give her. 

Binds it amongst the tresses that vie with the raven's wing; 
Floats secure and at rest on the breast of the slow-moving river, 
Radiant and happy and fair — fair as the bride of a king. 

Hark } she has screamed in dismay. While into the blue 
above her, 

Risen on palpitant wings, with, light in his talons caught 
One little sandal of red, an eagle is seen to hover — 

Sandal as light as a leaf, yet with fortunes of Empire fraught. 

Tumbled it down at the foot of a prince — but a prince and a 
lover — 

Saucily tapered its heel and its pink toe curled in air. 

Swore he to marry the maid whose foot bore so dainty a cover; 
Found he the bather and crowned her — Nitocris the Fair ! 

The lute dropped carelessly from her hand and 
the last word died away in one long, full note, 
when suddenly at the end of the vast hall arose a 
commotion. The revellers started from their 
couches, and two men in the armour of the 
Roman legions appeared from without and made 
their way hurriedly to the foot of the platform 
upon which reclined the queen and the triumvir. 
As Antony’s eyes fell on the scarred, grizzled 
face of the one in advance, he started to his feet 
with a cry : 

“Ventidius I” 


60 


SARBOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER V. 

'go, my hero! save Rome! 

Cleopatra’s face grew dark with anger and fore- 
boding. She, too, arose, and with an imperious 
gesture demanded, angrily : 

“What means this unseemly intrusion into our 
presence ?” 

The younger man, Eros, whose cheeks were 
still smooth and fair as a girl’s, blushed and cast 
down his eyes before the flashing glance of the 
indignant queen. But the hardened old war- 
horse, Ventidius, answered, boldly : 

“I come with grave news to my master. Ful- 
via, his wife, is dead.” 

“What !” exclaimed Antony, descending to his 
lieutenant’s side. “Fulvia !” 

“Dead, my lord.” 

Cleopatra sank back upon the couch, trembling 
like an aspen. What direful results would this 
news bring about? Eagerly, fearfully, she lis- 


SARDOWS CLEOPATRA. 


ei 


tened to eacli word. One by one, the comrades 
of Antony had drawn near, and stood silently by 
to hear the news from Rome. 

“Fulvia dead!” exclaimed Antony again. 
“When did this happen ?” 

“Two weeks since.” 

“Poor woman I She had a noble soul, 
although I loved her not.” 

“Her last thoughts were of you. Her last 
words recalled you to Italy.” 

“To Italy?” 

“Yes, to Italy,” repeated Ventidius, slowly and 
sternly. “Rome is in danger. Lepidus is a fig- 
ure head. Sextus Pompey no longer fears you. 
He holds the sea ; his fleets cover the Mediterra- 
nean, from Cyprus to the Columns of Hercules. 
He intercepts the arrival of wheat from Sicily 
and Africa. Rome is threatened with famine.” 

Ventidius paused, but Antony made no reply. 
His eyes were bent upon the ground and his 
brow was wrinkled as if in thought. 

“What!” exclaimed Ventidius, in vain attempt- 
ing to conceal his scorn and disappointment. 
“Rome in danger, and Antony hesitates. Ah ! 
that I should live to see this day ! General ! Em- 
peror ! Without you, Rome is lost ! The father- 


62 


SARD 0 U’S CLEOPA TEA. 


land demands you, and can you shamefully for- 
get it for an unworthy love !” 

This time, his words were answered. With a 
gesture of angry menace, Antony strode toward 
him. 

“Silence !” he thundered. “Not one word more 
like that ! How dare ” 

But, swift as an arrow, the queen had descended 
to his side, and laid her soft hand upon his arm. 

“Not for me must you quarrel,” she said. 
“Remember, this man was the conqueror of the 
Parthians.” 

As Antony looked into the face he adored, his 
anger melted. He threw his arm about her, and 
drew her toward him. Then, turning again to 
Ventidius, he said : 

“It is to the woman you have reviled that you 
owe your pardon. Take back to ungrateful Rome 
this my answer. Let her extricate herself from 
her difficulties as best she may. Let Octavius 
do as he chooses. I care not. I am happy here 
and here I will remain.” 

In an ecstasy of joy, Cleopatra raised her eyes 
to his face. 

“My Antony !” she murmured. “Am I then 
all this to you ?” 


SAKDOU'S CLEOPATHA. 


63 


“All the world,” lie returned, passionately, 
Ventidius realized that he was beaten. 

How could he have hoped to prevail against 
this Circe who held the greatest warrior of the 
world thus fast in the silken meshes of her web 
of enchantment? The old soldier’s heart was sad 
and bitter. Like all of Antony’s captains and 
soldiers, Ventidius adored the emperor, as he was 
fondly called in the army ; for Mark Antony pos- 
sessed in a wonderful measure those qualities 
which inspire loyalty and devotion : bravery, 
frankness, generosity. Without Antony there 
was no hope for Rome, for that Rome, which was 
Ventidius’ country, and for whose honor and 
glory he had fought all his life long. In spite 
of all, he would make one more effort. The spell 
of Cleopatra’s magic was complete. She and she 
alone could induce this recreant leader to return 
to his duty. 

There was something pathetic in the way the 
old warrior now spoke, addressing this time not 
the master whom he loved, but the being who 
held that master in her power, and whom he hated 
and feared. 

“Great queen,” he said, “you have called me 
the conqueror of the Parthiaus. No, not I ! I 


64 SABDOtJ’S CLEOPATBA. 

only obeyed. The conqueror was he — Antony. 
Queen, he has refused to listen to the voice of his 
duty, but to his old friends he owes some regard. 
He should appear and reanimate their faith now 
war is again upon them. If I return without him 
Rome will say that he is a slave here in Egypt, 
and the Senate will denounce him. Be you, now, 
his better spirit. Let Rome believe for a single 
day that Antony has returned, and Caesar is lost.” 

Once or twice during this speech Antony had 
attempted to interrupt, but Cleopatra had pre- 
vented him. She had listened with the crimson 
going and coming upon her fair cheek. Some- 
thing in Ventidius’ words had roused to life the 
sleeping ambition, once so indomitable, of this 
many sided woman. Next to her love for Antony, 
her love of power was her strongest passion. For 
her, to reign was the same thing as to live. Then, 
of all beings on earth, she hated and feared Oc- 
tavius. Revenge and gratified ambition were 
within her grasp. Yes! Let her lover save 
Rome ; let there be but one world, and that world 
Caesar’s capital and its sovereigns Mark Antony 
and Cleopatra. The daughter of the Ptolemies, 
with the aid of Antony, would be queen of all the 
world. He must go, and go at once. 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


65 


Witli all the arts of whicli she was past mis- 
tress ; with all the tender, seductive accents of her 
caressing voice, she pointed out to her reluctant 
lover the path wherein his duty lay ; she showed 
to him that his desertion opened to Octavius the 
absolute rulership of Rome ; she encouraged him, 
she awakened in him all his old ambition, all his 
old longing for triumph and power. And, al- 
though at first he turned to all her entreaties and 
arguments a deaf ear, she finally persuaded him 
to depart. 

“Who can resist you, oh. Royal Egypt?” he 
said, at last. “Now, as ever, I will obey your 
commands.” 

“Yes,” she cried, enthusiastically. “Glory be- 
fore all!” 

Then, with a quick transition, she threw her- 
self, with a burst of sobs, into his arms. 

“Go ! Go ! But be faithful to me, and return 
quickly.” 

Led by Ventidius, who was half delirious at the 
thought that after all, and just when it had seemed 
most hopeless, his mission was to be crowned with 
success, a mighty shout went up from the Roman 
soldiers. 


66 


SAIlDOU’a CLEOPATRA. 


“Long live Antony! Long live our Emperor 1 
Long live Cleopatra tlie queen!” 

Tlie vessel whicli had brought Ventidius and 
Eros was waiting at the quay to convey them to 
Rome. 

With her own hands the queen helped to arm 
her lover. She had moulded him to suit her own 
will ; but now that separation was imminent, de- 
spite her undaunted nature, all her fears and 
weaknesses of a loving woman were aroused. She 
lavished upon him the most tender caresses, min- 
gled with broken words. 

“Ah ! to separate ! It is cruel ! and it is my 
words that have brought it about. Ah ! you do 
not love me, or you would not go. No, no — I 
mean it not. You must, you shall go ; I wish it.” 

As, through her blinding tears, she buckled his 
cuirass, one of the sharp points wounded her fin- 
ger and a drop of bright blood trickled slowly 
down Antony’s white corselet. 

As she perceived the crimson stain, she turned 
pale as death, and, with a cry of horror, she clung 
frantically to him. 

“It is an omen — an omen of evil! We shall 
never meet again. Ah ! swear to me that you will 
return!” 


SAIWOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


C7 


“I swear it by all the gods of Olympus !” 

“If aught happens to you, my Antony, I follow 
you — I follow you. The time has come to part. 
Ah, that spot of red! It will be ever before my 
eyes, until I look upon your face again. How to 
live these weary days, alone, and tortured by anx- 
iety 1 How to suppress them ! Give me drugs to 
render them shorter! You love me?” 

“lyove you, my queen ? Forever ! Far or near, 
you fill my whole existence.” 

“Forgive me ; I am weak. See, my tears are 
gone ! Glory awaits you ! Go, save Rome ! Fare- 
well, my hero, my life, my god! Farewell!” 

One last vow of eternal love — one long, tender, 
clinging embrace — then he tore himself away from 
her, and, followed by Ventidius, Eros, and the rest 
of the Romans, rushed out upon the terrace 
and dashed down through the garden toward the 
quay. 

With arms outstretched and her draperies hov- 
ering about her like wings, Cleopatra flew after 
him up the steps and out upon the platform. 
With feline-like agility, she leaped upon the 
pedestal of one of the Sphinxes, and clinging with 
one arm to the image, no less strange and inscrut- 


68 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


able than herself, she waved with the other to the 
departing warrior a last farewell. 

But when he had passed from her sight she 
slowly, slowly descended, with many a backward 
glance, and returned to the banquet hall. 

The revellers had returned to the tables, and 
the buffoons and dancers were gathered together 
in the center of the great apartment. 

Suddenly, with flashing eyes and crimsoned 
cheeks, the queen was in their midst. Frantically 
she tore the garlands of roses from off the massive 
bowls of wine, and trampled them with fierce pas- 
sion beneath her feet. 

“Out of my sight!” she cried, in a voice that 
made all the motley crowd of courtiers and slaves 
shrink back in terror. “Idiots ! Fools I Out of 
my sight ! Away from here, I say I No more 
music 1 No more feasting I Away ! Away ! All 
of you ! There shall be nothing but mourning 
until he returns I” 


HAltDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


69 


CHAPTER VI. 

ILLUSIONS dispelled. 

For six weeks kad Pkaron, tke Greek slave, 
who, like Ixion, had fallen in love with one far 
above him, grasped in his arms only a eloud, and 
was doomed henceforth to suffer the torments of 
Hades— for six weeks had Pharon lain concealed 
in the vault beneath the Temple of Isis. Poor 
Iras, no less unfortunate than he, perhaps, had 
nursed him back to health. She did not dare to 
tell him the truth, but by inference, if not by 
actual speech, had allowed him to believe that 
Cleopatra had, at the last moment, relented and 
spared his life. 

Whenever the Greek girl could be spared from 
her duties at the palace, which was not too often, 
she hastened to the temple, finding a strange sat- 
isfaction, half pain, half joy, in being near and 
ministering to the man she loved and whose life 
she had saved. Does one who really loves ever 


70 SABDOtf'S CLEOPATRA. 

love absolutely without hope? No matter how 
apparently impassable are the obstacles, how 
black the future may look, is there not always 
deep buried a faint belief that some day all will 
come right and our desires find fruition ? At all 
events, it was so with Iras. When Pharon greeted 
her coming with pleasure, when he expressed his 
gratitude, she saw in it the possible dawning of 
love. Alas ! if she had bnt known the pleasure 
her presence gave him was that of seeing some 
one who had been near the queen, the gratitude 
was to the one whom he supposed to be in some 
measure Cleopatra’s vice-regent. 

To Serapion, the knowledge that he was har- 
boring this man in concealment, was a constant 
source of anxiety and even terror. Shonld the 
facts come to the queen’s ears, not even his 
priestly calling would avail to save his life. 
Twenty times had he concocted some scheme to 
be rid of his unwelcome guest, and twenty times 
had he allowed himself to be won from his pro- 
ject by his niece’s entreaties. Iras, herself, knew 
that the time mnst come when Pharon must be 
told the truth and aided to escape to Greece. But, 
day after day, she put off the fatal hour that 
would separate him from her. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


71 


“Iras,” lie said to her one day, “what are the 
queen’s wishes ? How long is it her will that I 
am to remain here ?” 

The girl turned pale, and faltered : 

“I — I cannot tell.” 

“You cannot tell ?” he exclaimed, in surprise. 
“But, surely, you are in her confidence ?” 

“In her confidence — yes — ^but, she has not said. 
Oh ! she ” 

“Well, speak.” 

Iras saw that at last the time had come. But, 
what could she say ? If she told him the whole 
truth, would he consent to receive his life at her 
hands ? Would he not consider himself still 
bound by his oath ? No ! that would be too terri- 
ble, that she could not risk. 

“You must understand, Pharon,” she said, at 
last, “that, after — after what occurred, it would be 
impossible for you to remain in Bgypt. It is the 
queen’s commands,” she went on more boldly, 
“that you leave this land forever, and never again 
appear in her presence.” 

For a moment, he made no answer, and then 
he said, quietly : 

“The queen relented. Whatever the queen’s 


72 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


commands may be, they shall be obeyed. When 
am I to depart ?” 

“I — I do not know. I will tell you, to-morrow.” 

And as the thought struck her, like a blow, 
that what she had so long dreaded would now 
soon come to pass, her fortitude gave way, and, 
burying her face in her hands, she burst into 
tears. 

Pharon gazed at her in astonishment. 

“What is it, Iras ?” he asked, kindly. 

“To have you go,” she sobbed. “Oh, Pharon, 
why can I not go with you ? Greece is my native 
land, too.” 

At these words, perhaps something of the truth 
was revealed to him, for a look of deep compassion 
was on his face, as he answered gently : 

“Poor child ! No, I go alone — alone, to forget 
the torment of my love until it pleases the gods to 
release me.” 

Iras wiped away the glittering drops that rested 
on her lashes, and, forcing a smile, said : 

“Till to-morrow, then.” 

“Till to-morrow. You have been more than 
kind to me, dear child, and I thank you.” And, 
drawing her toward him, he pressed upon her 


SABBOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


73 


forehead siicli a kiss as a brother might have 
given a sister. 

Without a word, she turned and hurriedly left 
the cell, leaving him alone. 

Throwing himself down upon the pallet bed, he 
gave himself up to his thoughts. What remained 
to him in life ? To-morrow he would return to 
Greece, where his boyhood had been passed, but 
not to find there the peace of his early days. Who 
could know peace again, after once having loved 
that pearl among women ? Away from the sun- 
light of her smile, all would be dark as the shades 
of Erebus. Why had he been brought back to 
this earth to long unceasingly for the unattain- 
able ? And yet it was her wish. She had relented. 
To be even the object of her pity was something. 
If it was her wish that he should live, what was 
he that he should dare to oppose it ? And yet 
how much better it would have been for him if he 
had been left to die ? He was young yet, and be- 
fore him stretched an endless vista of sorrowful 
years. 

He closed his eyes, as if to shut out the vision 
of what was before him. When he opened them 
again he started from his couch with an exclama- 
tion of mingled bewilderment and alarm. At his 


74 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


side stood tlie tall figure of a man, witfi. a dark 
complexion, tkin lips, and narrow, slanting eyes. 

“Diomedes!” exclaimed Pkaron. “Diomedes! 
You here 1” 

And instinctively he glanced about him, as if 
seeking some weapon of defense. 

Diomedes understood the look, and with a half 
scornful smile, said : 

“Fear not ! I am here as a friend, not as an 
enemy.” 

“But how have you discovered me ?” asked the 
Greek, in bewilderment. 

“When one has the key to an enigma, it is not 
difficult to unlock it. A woman in love betrays 
herself to those who have eyes to see.” 

For an instant a flood of joy and hope over- 
whelmed the young Greek. Trembling in every 
limb, he gasped : 

“Cleopatra!” 

The dark-faced man laughed aloud, a laugh not 
pleasant to hear. 

“Cleopatra ! Poor fool, are you still mad ? I 
said a woman in love. Who, day after day, has 
sought this temple ?” 

“Iras!” 

“Yes, Iras. Too fair a damsel, I think, to have 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


75 


her devotion cast aside like a wortkless bauble.” 

“So! You bave followed ber?” said Pbaron, 
out of whose face all ligut bad died. There was 
but one woman on earth to him. What mattered 
the others ? To Iras he was grateful, in a certain 
sense, but there all feeling ended. 

“Yes,” returned Diomedes, “I followed her, at 
first, out of idle curiosity, and then, for a different 
motive, for what might be to my own advantage.” 

“Explain I” 

The whole expression of the Egyptian’s face 
changed, and he spoke in a far different tone from 
what he had used before, 

“Listen, and weigh well what I have to say. 
You, who were condemned to death, are still alive. 
How this has happened I know not. Kephren 
has reported that you kept your word. What 
jugglery has been used matters but little.” 

“Jugglery!” interrupted Pharon, angrily. 
“There was no jugglery. I did keep my word. 
I took the poison. But before it was too late, the 
handmaiden of the queen, who was ready with an 
antidote, saved my life. Cleopatra had repented 
her cruel edict and had sent Iras to save me.” 

“Cleopatra repented !” echoed the other, with a 
sneering laugh. “She repent! As soon expect 


76 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


the marble statue of Isis to descend from her 
pedestal and interfere. Poor dupe ! If what you 
say is true, it was Iras, and Iras alone, that saved 
you. Cleopatra believes you dead and rejoices at 
the fact. She ” 

But two lithe, sinewy hands were about his 
throat and choked his further utterance. Pharon, 
beside himself with anger, shook him like a reed 
in his powerful grasp, and hurled him from him. 
Gasping and half-strangled, Diomedes fell upon 
the pallet. 

For an instant, save for the heavy breathing of 
the two men, there was silence in the little cell. 

The Greek was the first to recover himself. 
With an effort, he approached to where his victim 
• lay. Diomedes crept closer to the wall. 

“Oh! have no fear!” said Pharon. “My anger 
is spent. I was wrong. After all, you may be 
right. Speak ! Tell me all that you know. But, 
as you fear the vengeance of the gods, speak the 
truth.” 

Diomedes, somewhat reassured, rose slowly and 
painfully to his feet. His breast heaved with 
anger, but it was an anger he did not dare give 
vent to. Dissimulation and trickery were his 
weapons. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


77 


“If I speak the truth,” he said, “will it meet 
with the scurvy reception you have already given 
it?” 

Pharon, who had snddenly grown very white, 
threw himself down upon a stool in the comer of 
the cell. 

“Go on !” he said. “Whatever you may say, 
I will not lay hands upon you again. You have 
my word.” 

Diomedes gave him a sharp glance, and, appar- 
ently satisfied with his scrutiny, began as follows: 

“You have been deceived. I have already told 
you the truth. Must I repeat it ?” 

“Cleopatra believes me dead, and rejoices in 
that belief?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, fool that I have been !” 

He saw it all now. And yet it was chiefly his 
own fault that he had fallen into the mad error. 

“There is one thing yet you can have,” said 
Diomedes, slowly. 

“And that is ?” was the weary response. 

“Revenge !” 

“Revenge ? On whom ? Not on the girl who 
saved my life ! It is not her fault that I am mad. 


78 


SARDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


Not on Cleopatra. The bargain was a bargain, 
and I have failed to keep my word, but I will 
keep it yet.” 

Diomedes’ face fell. He had thought through 
this man to serve his own ends, to obtain his own 
revenge. Two years before, for some trivial 
offense, the queen had ordered him to be publicly 
beaten. The sentence was carried out. Since 
then he had been returned to favor, and Cleopatra 
had probably forgotten the whole occurrence. But 
not so with Diomedes. Crafty, sly, and cowardly, 
he bided his time. To further his own ends, he 
had made friends, at Tarsus, with Ventidius. His 
one object and aim was to lower the haughty spirit 
of the woman, queen though she was, who had 
humiliated him, and to make her stififer, in mind, 
at least, the tortures she had inflicted upon him. 
Of late it had seemed to him that his day of tri- 
umph might not be far distant. Through her love 
for this Roman could he not strike? When, 
through spying upon Iras, he had discovered that 
this slave, Pharon, was still alive, he fancied that 
he had the instrument at his hand, but he was 
disappointed; the Greek was more honest and 
single-minded than he had thought. 

“You have kept your word,” he said, at last ; 


SABDOU'S OLEOPATUA. 


79 


“it is not your fault that the poison failed of its 
effect.” 

“It will not fail a second time.” 

“Cleopatra is happy. She cares not now. Her 
only thought is for her new lover.” 

Pharon started. 

“Her new lover !” 

Then Diomedes related briefly the visit of the 
queen to Tarsus, her victory over the Roman 
triumvir, and her own final enslavement — a cap- 
tive in the chains of Eros. 

To all this the Greek listened with varying 
emotions, at first with maddening jealousy, which, 
however, soon gave way to a feeling of numb de- 
spair. What mattered it, after all ? He was to 
die. 

“Ah!” he murmured, half aloud, as Diomedes 
finished. “If I could but look upon that face once 
more I” 

“It is not impossible,” answered Diomedes, 
eagerly. 

“Not impossible!” exclaimed Pharon, no less 
eagerly, his face flushing scarlet. “Show me the 
way, and I am your friend for life ! Ah,” he 
added, with sad sarcasm, “that is not for long.” 

“Dong enough to accomplish what I wish.” 


80 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


Then, witli mucli persuasive and subtle elo- 
quence, Diomedes disclosed what be wished the 
slave to do, promising him in return to bring him 
in disguise into the presence of the queen herself, 
where he could drink to the full the intoxication 
of her- beauty. 

At first Pharon demurred. The favor asked 
seemed in itself but little, but what lay behind it 
he did not know. He had been slightly ac- 
quainted with the Egyptian, at the time that he 
was a boatman of the Nile. He knew but little 
of him, but he felt an instinctive distrust of him. 
The unquenchable thirst which had taken posses- 
sion of him to gaze upon the face of her who was 
at once his joy and his ruin proved too strong for 
him, however ; little by little he allowed himself 
to be persuaded, and ended by agreeing to do what 
Diomedes asked of him. 


SAIWOV’S CLEQPATUA. 


81 


CHAPTER VII. 

VARIUM ET MUTABIEE. 

When Iras returned to the palace, she had no 
time to indulge in the grief that consumed her 
at the impending separation from Pharon, for her 
royal mistress had sent for her, and she was 
obliged to obey at once the summons. Hastily 
bathing her eyes and removing from her cheeks 
the traces of her tears, she hurried to a small 
room in a wing of the palace which bordered one 
side of the gardens, and where Cleopatra was 
wont at this hour to give audience to the philoso- 
phers, sages, and scientists, it delighted her to 
honor. 

Incomparable in beauty as was this royal 
daughter of the Nile, she was no less matchless 
in intelligence. In fact, perhaps her most distin- 


SARD OU'S CLEOPA TEA. 



guisliiug characteristic was her lofty ‘intellect. 
To the most seductive graces a woman ever pos- 
sessed she added the genius of a man. She 
spoke seventeen languages, was a skillful musi- 
cian, and an excellent poet ; she had studied all 
the sciences of which there was then any knowl- 
edge, and the best schools of which were estab- 
lished at Alexandria; she could converse with 
the sages upon all branches of human knowledge, 
as easily as she could converse with the ambassa- 
dors of all nations in their own tongue. When 
to this sovereign intelligence are added, sovereign 
beauty, and the possession of sovereign power 
in a country and at a time when the existences of 
millions of men converged toward a single point, 
the existence of the king — it is not strange to 
understand why she was hailed by her people as 
“moderator of the world, mistress of the living, 
ruler of nations,” and proclaimed “Goddess Ever- 
getes, living queen of above and below, eye of 
light, the favorite of the sun.” 

The apartment in which Iras sought the queen 
was more Greek than Egyptian in its decorations. 
The walls were painted a deep blue with a deli- 
cate tracery of white and gold. Low chairs of 
Athenian design were scattered here and there ; 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


83 


near the broad window was a couch, covered with 
embroidered cushions, for Cleopatra always pre- 
ferred^reclining to sitting, knowing full well that 
the former attitude lent itself more readily to pic- 
turesque poses. At intervals, upon brackets 
fixed to the walls, were busts of the greatest 
Greek philosophers and poets, and side by side 
hung the tragic and the comic mask, for the 
queen was passionately fond of theatrical repre- 
sentations of every description. Above the couch 
were the busts of Sappho, the ill-fated poetess of 
Lesbos, and Aspasia, the brilliant friend of Peri- 
cles. 

Cleopatra lay among the silken cushions, 
attended by Charmian, and surrounded by men 
all eminent in their various callings. Near by, 
were slaves holding architectural and astronomi- 
cal instruments. 

As Iras entered, her uncle, Serapion, the grand 
priest of Isis, was reading aloud from a sacred 
book, supported upon the back of an acolyte of 
the temple. 

“Athyr is chaos, profound darkness, the bed 
beneath the waters where the world awoke. 
Pirami is day, the radiant spirit. Kneph is the 
creator, the father of all the gods. Phtah, his 


84 


SAIWOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


son, tlie god of fire, is the king of the thunder ; 
he created the heavens, he created the earth. 
The evil is in Typhon ; the good in Osiris, h'rother 
and divine spouse of the immortal Isis. Toth, 
the revealer, invented writing ; Toth knows all 
the- secrets that nature vails. Tmei is justice; 
Athor is beauty; the union of both forms Truth. 
Amenti is the abyss into which souls descend, 
and where, after death, their judges await them. 
There their lives are revealed, and there are 
weighed their good and evil deeds.” 

The old man paused, and Cleopatra, support- 
ing her head upon one rounded, polished arm, 
said, gravely : 

“Great are the gods, greater even than kings. 
I will be present to-morrow at the festival of 
Isis.” 

Serapion closed the book, which the acolyte 
bore away, and, bending low before his sovereign, 
replied : 

“The gods are gracious to us, when the queen 
prays to them ; and the happy people imitate her 
piety.” 

Then to each in turn did Cleopatra, the great 
queen and arbiter of all, give audience. 

A philosopher of the school at Alexandria 


HABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


85 


stated that Egiras of Lamos asked permission to 
be admitted to the school. 

“Admit him as a pupil,” replied Cleopatra, after 
a moment’s thought. “He is not without talent.” 

She next examined the plans submitted to her 
for a new temple of Hermes, approved them, and 
ordered the architect to push on the work without 
delay. 

Then, motioning to approach a man with a dark, 
curling beard, and keen, intelligent face, who 
was the custodian of the royal library, she asked : 

“And you, Seleucus, how many new volumes 
have you procured this month ?” 

“A thousand.” 

“That will go but a little way toward replacing 
those that were destroyed by the flames.” 

“Ah !” said Seleucus the librarian, with a sigh, 
“if we but had the treasures of Pergamos, works 
without price. But to obtain them ” 

“Well, what would be necessary ?” 

“A word from the triumvir.” 

“You shall have the books. Antony must re- 
pair the damage that Caesar wrought us.” 

“On your knees, all !” exclaimed the librarian. 
“Favorite of Isis, receive our grateful thanks.” 

But, with a charming smile, Cleopatra arose, 


86 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


and stretched out her hands to the kneeling 
sages. 

“Rise !” she commanded. “Philosophers, sages, 
scholars, rise ! It pains me to see you in that 
humble attitude. You, who represent the arts 
and sciences, have a right to have your wishes 
gratified. Before judging, the world awaits your 
judgments. By you, Egypt has been placed in 
the first rank of nations. With us, what makes 
man great is thought ; and the head of the 
thinker, like the head of a king, should never be 
lowered, not even before me.” 

One by one, the grateful men, with protesta- 
tions of devotion, kissed her fair hand and took 
their leave. 

The audience was over, and the qiieen was 
alone with her maidens. 

With a sigh of weariness, Cleopatra crossed to 
the window and looked out upon the landscape 
that lay hot and parched beneath the torrid rays 
of the midday sun. There was not a cloud in the 
changeless azure of the sky. The green Nile 
flowed sluggishly between its reddish banks. 
The leaves of the flowers and bushes in the gar- 
den hung limp and lifeless, with no breath of air 
to refresh them. 


SAIiDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


87 


Cleopatra raised lier hands and removed her 
head-dress — a sort of golden helmet — formed of 
the body and wings of the sacred bird. Handing 
it to Iras, she thrust back the dark masses of 
her hair behind her ears of a daintier pink than 
the shell from which Venus, the sea-born, 
emerged. 

“How to pass this weary time of waiting,” she 
murmured. “He has been gone ten days, and it 
seems ten centuries.” 

“Will it please you to listen to the singers of 
Ionia ?” asked Charmian. “They are without.” 

“No, Charmian, no. Their noise fatigues me. 
Send the singers away. Ah ! Isis, I have paid 
too much for your lying oracles. They prom- 
ised me that I should hear from Antony to-day. 
The hour has passed. They have deceived me. 
In vain I look forth. There is no boat upon the 
Nile, no cloud of dust upon the deserted road.” 

“Perhaps,” ventured Iras, timidly, “his plans 
have not succeeded, and the rebellious mob 
refuses him obedience.” 

Cleopatra shot upon her a glance of superb 
disdain. 

“Iras,” she said, imperiously, “doubt the gods 
if you v/ill, but not his power.” 


SABDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


But, Still, tlie words of the girl turned the 
thoughts of the love-sick queen in another direc- 
tion. 

At first each day had brought a messenger 
from Antony, but now for two days no word had 
been received from him. Ye gods! suppose he 
had made his peace with Csesar, and together 
they had agreed to drive from the seas the pirate, 
Pompey, and recapture Sicily I Perhaps, the 
sending of Ventidius had been a stratagem. 
Octavius had need of Antony, and Rome, who 
knew the Egyptian Queen and her power, was 
afraid of her love, that had once captured the 
great Julius. No! no! she would not think of 
that. It was impossible, folly. But, oh, how she 
longed for Antony’s return ! How slow the hours 
passed ! How overpowering was that breathless 
heat ! Not a cloud in the sky, not a drop of 
water in the pitiless azure of those heavens that 
knew no winter, spring nor autumn ; forever that 
red sun like a great, bloody eye always wakeful 
and watching ! 

“Ah!” she exclaimed, aloud, with a petulant 
gesture. “Iras ! Charmiau ! I would give these 
pearls, this bracelet for a drop of rain. Rife in 
Egypt is a heavy burden. This rich country. 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


89 


with SO many just claims to celebrity, is, for me, 
a young queen, a sad, funereal kingdom. Let 
Egypt boast of its palaces and monuments, but 
the finest of all are only tombs. Beneath one’s 
feet sleep generations of motionless mummies. 
It is like a country wrapped in eternal remorse 
for its crimes. The work of the living is to em- 
balm the dead. EveryviLere are furnaces in 
which bodies are being consumed. Everywhere 
is the acrid odor of naphtha and bitumen. Every- 
where does human pride struggle miserably with 
eternity. What matter these remains of people 
who have long since ceased to breathe ? Mon- 
strous art of embalming ! I hate your false, vain 
marvels ! Everything in this country, everything 
is odious to me ; everything inspires me with 
horror, even its beauties, even its illustrious river 
there, an enigma in its course, and whose source 
has been sought for in vain for three thousand 
years. Why, if that stream should disdain to 
overflow, dealing as it does death and destruction, 
this country would lose all, its glory and its for- 
tune. Oh ! how sad it is to have ever before my 
eyes that mournful river, with its silent flow, and 
to place my hopes in its eternal ravages. Mys- 
tery and granite, such is Egypt ! A terrible 


90 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


country tor a young woman to live in, for a young 
queen to rule over !” 

Charmian smiled, a little maliciously. Slie 
had been so often the queen’s confidant, that, 
spoiled favorite that she was, she permitted her- 
self little liberties of speech which no one else 
would have dared venture. 

“If Egypt is hated now,” she said, “it was loved 
once. Ah ! if this beautiful country has lost all 
its claims to affection, it is because Asia has 
been seen and remembered, because a tender re- 
gret renders the heart unfaithful, because the cold 
Cydnus has dethroned the Nile. What a charm- 
ing voyage that was. Do you remember, Iras ? 
I was at the prow, dressed as a siren,” 

Thus addressed, Iras, who had been listlessly 
listening, with her thoughts far away, started and 
said, with an effort : 

“I? You forget. I was not there.” 

The queen’s eyes sparkled as she remembered 
that day of her vietory. Egypt for the moment 
was forgotten. Once more she was on the waters 
of the Cydnus, bearing away in triumph her will- 
ing prey. 

“Ah,” she said, a smile wreathing her red lips, 
“and he accused me, treated me as a rebel !” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


91 


“How startled lie was,” said Charmian, “when 
I raised your vail. How dazzled he was by your 
beauty.” 

“Yes,” said Cleopatra. “He intended to pun- 
ish me — me ! He accused me openly of having 
aided the savage Brutus ; but, at the sound of 
my voice alone, that terrible suspicion took flight. 
He spoke no more to me of Brutus. Oh ! Char- 
mian, you did well to recall the joy of that day. 
When he returns, he shall see me again, as he 
saw me then. Go and bring the crown I wore 
that day and that he admired. Go ! I wish to 
see it.” 

But Charmian had scarcely departed when 
Cleopatra’s mood changed again. 

“No,” she said to Iras, her face clouding over. 
“I was wrong to listen to her. That memory but 
saddens me the more. In his absence, it is vain 
to resist this hideous gloom.” 

With a gesture of hopeless longing, she flung 
herself down upon the cushions. 

Iras looked at her mistress with a sorrowful 
expression in her blue eyes. 

“Ah !” she thought, “her love is returned, while 
mine ” 


Timidly she approached the recumbent queen. 


92 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“I feel how powerless I am to amuse you,” she 
said, softly. “But shall I try to read to you? An 
ode of Sappho’s ?” 

Cleopatra raised her head, and laughed aloud, 
with sarcastic and yet not unkindly amusement. 

“Sappho! My poor child, I envy your sim- 
plicity. Do you think to cure love with verses 
flaming with passion ? To calm my mind with 
those delirious avowals ? However, take the hook 
and read them, if you like.” 

Iras selected a small volume from a table cov- 
ered with books of all descriptions, and, seeing 
that her mistress had composed herself to listen, 
began to read in a calm, monotonous voice : 

“Peer of gods he seemeth to me, the blissful 

Man who sits and gazes at thee before him, 

Close beside thee sits, and in silence ” 

She broke off in alarm, for Cleopatra had sud- 
denly leaped from the couch and snatched the 
book impetuously from her hand, exclaiming, im- 
patiently: 

“Oh 1 how badly you read 1 It is plain to be 
seen that you have never loved I You have no 
conception of the words written here.” 

Then, with inarvelotts cadences, her exquisite 
voice now throbbing with tenderness, now pnlsat- 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATEA. 


S3 

ing with fierce, hot passion, she half declaimed, 
half sung, the verses of the love-lorn poetess : 

^‘Peer of gods he seemeth to me, the blissful 
Man who sits and gazes at thee before him, 

Close beside thee sits, and in silence hears thee 
Silverly speaking. 

Laughing love’s low laughter. Oh, this, this only 
Stirs the troubled heart in my breast to tremble! 

For should I but see thee a little moment. 

Straight is my voice hushed; 

Yea, my tongue is broken, and through and through me, 
'Neath the flesh, impalpable fire runs tingling, 

Nothing sees mine eyes, and a noise of roaring 
Waves in my ear sounds; 

Sweat runs down in rivers, a tremor seizes 
All my limbs, and paler than grass in autumn, 

Caught by pains of menacing death, I falter, 

Lost in the love trance." * 

As tlie last notes died away in tremulous 
silence slie started, and furiously flung from her 
the book, which fell with a crash upon the marble 
floor. 

“Those verses have driven me mad ! So have 
I felt at his glance, at his voice, at his touch ! 
Girl, what foul flend inspired you to think of 
Sappho ?” 

But her words fell upon ears that heard not. 
With pale lips and eyes wild with fright, Iras was 


*Symond's Translation, 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


y4 

staring out into the garden. Was it a specter, or 
had she really seen Pharon glide by and conceal 
himself behind a mass of foliage in the garden 
below? 

Cleopatra noticed the terror frozen upon the 
girl’s face, and, alarmed herself, she seized her by 
the arm. 

“Iras ! What is it ? What has happened ?” 

“Nothing! Nothing!” was the stammering 
reply. “I— I ” 

In amazement, the queen followed the direction 
of the girl’s eyes. 

“Ah!” she cried, tightening her grasp upon 
Iras’ arm. “What movement is that among the 
leaves of that plant.” 

As if by magic, Iras recovered herself. The 
danger of the man she loved nerved her to des- 
peration. At all odds, she must prevent his dis- 
covery. 

“It is nothing,” she said, “the breeze stirs the 
leaves.” 

“Breeze, child? There is no breeze. Look! 
Do you not see the shadow of a bow upon the 
wall, beyond the sphinx ?” 

As she spoke, a hissing sound was heard, and 
an aiTow flew through the air and planted itself 


SABDOU'S ULEOPATBA. 


95 


ill the cedar casement of the window. Cledpa4:j^^ 
staggered back, almost fainting with fright. 

“An arrow !” she screamed. “My guards ! 
Kephren ! My guards ! Caesar, I recognize your 
infamy in this. That archer is one of your emis- 
saries ; that arrow was meant for me. My guards I 
My guards !” 

Attracted by her cries, Kephren, followed by 
two immense Ethiopians, with lions’ skins about 
their shoulders, and armed with bow and spear, 
rushed into the room. 

Cleopatra rapidly explained, and they dashed 
through the window, out into the garden ; but all 
their search was vain. A bow lay beneath the 
bushes, but the offender had disappeared. 

Meanwhile Iras had drawn the quivering arrow 
from the woodwork. A roll of papyrus was 
wrapped about the dart. Quick as lightning Iras 
removed it, but not before Cleopatra had ob- 
served it. 

“A message!” exclaimed the queen. “I laugh 
at my alarm. But how did that archer escape my 
guards ? Give it to me — I will read it.” 

But Iras had already read the words inscribed 
upon the parchment. With a sigh of relief, as 


96 


SABDOti’S CLEOPATBA. 


sBe Bad feared to see tBere sBe knew not wBat, 
sBe Banded tBe message to Cleopatra. 

Upon tBe papyrus were tBese words : 

“Qneen, Antony deceives you, and you await 
Bim in vain.” 

As Cleopatra read, tBe color forsook Ber cBeeks 
and sBe seemed about to fall, but in another mo- 
ment sBe Bad recovered Berself, and in cold, meas- 
ured tones sBe said to KepBren, wBo Bad returned 
from Bis fruitless quest. 

“In twenty-four Bours, produce before me tBe 
man wBo fired that arrow, or your Bead shall pay 
the penalty. Go !” 

With heavy step, KepBren, followed by Bis 
Ethiopians, left the room. To have incurred the 
displeasure of Bis royal mistress was worse than 
death itself to the captain of the guards, who lived 
but in the sunshine of Ber favor. 

As Be vanished, CBarmian entered from an op- 
posite door, bearing the crown for which she Bad 
been sent. 

Knowing nothing of what Bad occurred, she 
exclaimed, gayly : 

“Here is the crown, the evoker of precious 
memories. Iras, help me to ” 

But Cleopatra waved Ber back. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


97 


“Wliat does this message mean ?” she muttered 
between her clenched teeth, “Oh, fool that I am ! 
It is nothing — the work of a madman, I will trust 
him ! I will trust him ! Thus do I banish all 
suspicion from my heart!” And tearing the 
parchment into fragments she flung them from 
her. 

Then stretching out her arms, wearily and pit- 
eously ; 

“Charmian ! Iras I Help me, my women, to 
my chamber. My eyes are heavy, and I fain 
would sleep,” 


98 


SAUDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DEAD ALIVE. 

Cleopatra slept, an uneasy, fitful slumber, dis- 
turbed by sudden starts and cries.' 

By her side watched Iras, longing eagerly for 
the moment to come when she could escape and 
fly to the temple, warn Serapion, and discover, :f 
possible, why Pharon had left his hiding-place. 
The suspense was horrible. How happy she 
would be now if the thing she once had dreaded 
had come to pass, and Pharon was far from her, 
safe in Greece. At any moment Kephren might 
discover him, and this time no power on earth 
could save him. 

The blue eyes were dim, and the sweet month 
quivered, as she waved mechanically the huge fan 
above Cleopatra’s head. Absorbed in her anxiety 
and gloomy foreboding, she did not see the heavy 
curtains that concealed the door, pushed slowly 
aside, nor hear the stealthy step of a man who 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


99 


was creeping up behind her. Nearer and nearer 
he approached, until he was close beside her. 
Still she gazed into vacancy, still the fan moved 
slowly to and fro. Suddenly a hand was clapped 
over her mouth, preventing her from making any 
outcry, and a voice, that she recognized in spite 
of her alarm, whispered low in her ear : 

“Not a word ! Not a sound ! Come with me.” 

His hand was removed, and scarce knowing 
what she did, she arose cautiously and followed 
him to the door. 

The queen stirred uneasily, but did not awaken. 

When the curtain had fallen behind them, and 
they were alone in a small ante-room, Iras said, 
trembling with fear, not for herself, but for him : 

“Pharon, what madness has brought you here ? 
And to-day in the garden ? Why do you thus 
risk your life ?” 

“Risk my life?” he replied, bitterly. “It is 
the last day I have to live. Let me, at least, 
make the most of it.” 

“The last day you have to live ?” she repeated^ 
with wide, staring eyes. 

“Yes. You made me break my oath. 'To-night 
I keep it.” 


100 SAKDOU'S ClEOPATliA. 

She shrank back against the wall. As he saw 
her white face, he repented of his harshness, 

“Nay, child, I would not pain you. Your mo- 
tive was good. But, let me pass, once more 
would I look upon her face, and then ” 

“You would go in there — to her?” 

“Yes, let me pass. If it had not been for that 
hope, I should not have survived till now.” 

“But what would you do ? Remember, she is 
the queen.” 

He smiled, sadly. 

“Have no fear. I would not, I could not harm 
a hair of her head.” 

She moved aside, with a look that, if he had 
noticed it, might or might not have touched him ; 
but he was thinking of the woman he loved, and 
what cared he for the woman who loved him ? 

As the curtain fell behind him, in an agony of 
doubt and fear, Iras sank to the ground, and 
crouching there, close to the door, listened, vainly 
endeavoring to still the beating of her heart. 

Slowly and noiselessly Pharon crossed the 
mosaic floor, until he was close to the couch 
upon which Cleopatra lay. For a moment he 
held his breath as he gazed down upon her. How 
beautiful she was with one arm thrown up beneath 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


101 


her head, and the long dark lashes shading the 
perfect oval of her cheek. What had he done 
that the gods should thus scourge him ? To love 
a queen ! It was as if one should love the moon. 
And yet, he remembered with a thrill that even 
as that fair luminary had once lent to Endymion, 
so had Cleopatra for one short hour been his. 
He had lived. For the last time he gazed upon 
that face with its fatal fascination, and now for 
the journey across the Styx and the darkness of 
Erebus. 

Poor, vain fool ! Too long has he lingered 
For suddenly, without warning, the heavy eye- 
lids are raised and those marvelous eyes are look- 
ing straight into his. 

Spellbound, he could not move, and for a mo- 
ment there was- the stillness of death in the 
chamber. Then, with a low, muffled cry of 
unutterable horror, Cleopatra flung out her arms 
as if to shut out some horrible vision. 

“You! You!” she gasped, with ashen lips. 
“What has forced you to quit the dark abyss ?” 

Pharon sank on his knees beside the couch, 
scarce knowing nor caring what he did. 

“Queen !” he murmured. 

With a bound, she shrank away from him, 


102 SAEDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 

“Horrible specter! Vile slave! Have you 
come at my last hour to avenge yourself?” 

“To avenge myself? I love you.” 

With her eyes still fixed upon him, slowly she 
reached out her hand and touched him. Then, 
convinced that he was no specter, hut flesh and 
blood, she burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. 
But, suddenly checking herself, she said, im- 
periously : 

“Why are you here ? Why did you not keep 
your oath ?” 

In few words he told her of his taking the 
poison in the temple, and of the antidote that had 
been administered to him, but without betraying 
his preserver’s identity.’ 

The queen listened, but asked no questions. 

A strange smile played about her mouth. 

“So,” she said, “I wished your death, and you 
love me still.” 

“Yes.” 

“Poor fool!” 

“It was with no fear that I drank the poison. 
I was glad to die at your command. Ah ! Have 
no fear that I shall fail in my word. To-day, the 
means shall be sure.” 

“See that it is,” was the short, cruel response. 


SAIWOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


103 


He arose to his feet. 

“One word, oh, queen, before I go. At the 
command of another, who kept his word to me, 
and whom I cannot betray, it was I who fired 
to-day that arrow.” 

Cleopatra sprang to her feet. 

“How, slave ? It was to you, then, that I owe 
the torments of jealousy from which I have suf- 
fered !” 

“Jealousy !” repeated Pharon, sadly. “Oh, 
queen, for him who has seen you but for a single 
day, there is no longer another woman, there is 
no longer another love. In vain some beauty 
tries to attract him and render him unfaithful ; 
although near her, he is still yours. Before his 
eyes is incessantly your face, and he is blind to 
all else. His love is yours, and yours alone ; to 
him you alone of all women in the world are 
beautiful, and as the Vestal Virgins nourish the 
sacred fire, he cherishes in his heart the memory 
of you.” 

These words were like balm to Cleopatra, 
wounded by Antony’s silence. 

“And yet,” she said, musingly, “it is two days 
since a message has come from him. He has 
forgotten me.” 


104 


SARDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Does one forget you?” exclaimed Pharon, 
witli suppressed passion, “You do not know the 
mightiness of your power. One can live without 
bread behind the walls of a besieged city, one can 
live without fire in the land of ice, one can live 
without water in the African desert, one can live 
without air in the furnaces of Vulcan, but one 
cannot live a day without thinking of you, with- 
out summoning lip your face, without speaking 
your name twenty times, without longing to hear 
your voice, to breathe the air that you breathe. 
Oh ! fear nothing ! He loves you, and more now 
than ever. The one who has once loved you 
knows no peace away from you ; he has but one 
hope, one dream, to live for you, and if he suffers 
through you, it is his joy — he hugs his suflfering 
to his breast.” 

To Cleopatra, this was no longer the slave 
whose death she had sought, that was speaking, 
but a prophet, an inspired prophet. Superstitious 
as she was, in spite of her great intelligence, she 
believed that the return of this man with these 
words of cheer was an omen of happiness in the 
future. Perhaps, too, she was recalled to a con- 
sciousness of her own power in holding the hearts 
of men. In all the long list of her love affair? 


SAltDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


105 


from the great Csesar to this poor slave himself, it 
was always she who forsook, she was never for- 
saken. 

A triumphant joy illumined her face, making 
it so gloriously lovely that Pharon involuntarily 
covered his eyes with his hands, as one does 
before the brilliancy of the sun. 

“Ah !” she cried, exultantly. “He will re- 
turn !” 

“Trembling to ask for his chains once more. 
He loves you, he loves you still. You can believe 
me, for his torments are mine. Read in my 
heart and believe in his.” 

There was a smile upon the queen’s face, a 
smile of conscious power. All her fears were for 
the moment gone. What folly to have believed 
that Antony could forget her. 

“And now,” said Pharon, “I go to fulfill my 
oath.” 

“No,” said Cleopatra, gently, almost tenderly. 
“I absolve you. I bid you live.” 

The slave’s face flushed scarlet. With a wild 
cry he fell on his knees before her. The thing 
that in his madness he had believed, had now 
come true. The queen had relented. It was 
not that he cared for life — what could life mean 


106 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


for him? — but that she no longer wished his 
death. 

Cleopatra drew from her finger a ring — a scar- 
abseus set with priceless pearls — and, bending for- 
ward, placed it in his hand.' 

“Take this,” she said, softly, “as a memento 
that she whom they call cruel can be generous. 
Go, and never let me look upon your face again.” 

Pharon arose to his feet, and, with one long 
glance, such a glance as a man doomed to die 
before morning would cast upon the setting sun, 
turned quickly and went out from her presence. 

Through the ante-room he passed, never notic- 
ing the white-faced girl who stretched in dumb 
pain her trembling arms after him. What does 
he, whose eyes are raised to the splendor of the 
evening star, know of the modest violet he 
crushes beneath his careless feet ? 


SARDOU'i: CLEOPATRA. 


107 


CHAPTER IX. 

FAREWELL. 

From the ante-room Pharon turned abruptly 
into a narrow, winding hall, and, advancing a step 
or two, he studied closely for a moment the hier- 
oglyphics upon the walls, and then pressed his 
finger upon one of the horns of a pictured sem- 
blance of the bull Apis. Slowly and noiselessly 
a panel slid aside, revealing a narrow, dark pass- 
age-way. The Greek closed the panel, and, feeling 
his way cautiously, proceeded until his hand 
struck a wall in front of him. He passed his hand 
over this wall, found the spring which opened an- 
other secret door, and finally emerged into a ruined 
aqueduct just outside the walls of the gardens of 
the palace. It was this way that he had escaped 
after firing the arrow, and this way that he had 
been able to penetrate into the palace without 
alarming the guards. 

The sun was setting. The west was ablaze with 


108 


SAMDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


Streaming crimson clouds that seemed like the 
flaming manes of the fleet steeds of Apollo, and 
lordly Memphis, with its temples and palaces, 
was bathed in a warm light. 

Through the streets hurried Pharon in the 
direction of the Temple of Isis, where he was to 
meet Diomedes and give him an account of his 
mission. He held his mantle well before his face, 
as if to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun- 
set, but in reality lest he should meet some one 
who would recognize him. 

In the outer court of the temple he found 
Diomedes awaiting him. 

The crafty courtier at once eagerly accosted 
him. 

“Well,” he asked, “did you succeed ?” 

The face of the young Greek grew hard, and in 
his eyes was a dangerous light. 

“Yes,” he answered. “I succeeded both on 
your behalf and my own. We are quits.” 

“Did Cleopatra read the message ?” 

“Yes. But I have an account to settle with 
you.” 

There was something so stern in the tone that 
Diomedes started. 

“What do you mean ?” he faltered, 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


109 


“Tills ! Wliy have you used me and my folly 
for your own vile ends ? The bait offered me was 
well-chosen. What your ends may be, I know 
not, but it is for me now to prevent the success of 
your foul schemes.” 

“What ! What are you going to do ?” asked 
Diomedes, now thoroughly frightened. 

“To kill you, as I would a venomous reptile !” 

Diomedes’ swarthy face turned livid. Possessed 
of rather uncommon intelligence and astuteness, 
as he undoubtedly was, he was physically a cow- 
ard. With a sudden movement, he attempted to 
slip by his antagonist and reach the square be- 
yond, but Pharon was too quick for him. In a vice- 
like grip, two muscular hands seized his throat. 
With protruding eyes and gasping breath, the 
poor wretch struggled and attempted to plead for 
mercy. 

As a terrier shakes a rat, the Greek shook him 
violently to and fro. 

Pharon’s face was convulsed with anger, and he 
hissed in the ear of his victim : 

“You would torture her, would you, with your 
vile insinuations ? And I was your tool ! But 
the slave is now the master, and for every pang 
you have caused you shall suffer tenfold. Rebel, 


110 


SAUDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


traitor to your country and your queen, your time 
has come, and you shall pay the penalty of your 
crime !” 

The terror-stricken victim attempted to cry out, 
but the terrible pressuie on his throat strangled 
his voice. His face was pnrple and distorted, and 
in a moment more he would undoubtedly have 
been crossing the dark stream in charge of the 
grim ferryman, had not a muscular arm inter- 
vened and wrenched away the Greek’s hands from 
their clutch. _ 

Serapion, in his priestly robes, stood between 
them. 

“Sacriligious vandals !” he cried. “Would you 
desecrate the temple of our Holy Mother ? Desist, 
I command you, in the name of Cleopatra, the 
Queen !” 

Thns adjured, although his blood was roused 
to fever heat, Pharon made no resistance. With 
one contemptuous glance at Diomedes, who, half 
strangled and thoroughly terrified, leaned, shak- 
ing like a leaf, against the wall, he turned, and, 
followed by Serapion, who saw that the wily cour- 
tier had sustained no serious injury, made his 
way to the priests’ cell. 

“Pharon,” said Serapion, closing the door be- 


SAEDOU’S OLEOPATEA. 


Ill 


hind them, “why have you left your place of con- 
cealment ? Not only you, but myself and Iras 
would be in mortal danger if the qiTeen should 
know that you are still alive.” 

“The queen does know,” returned Pharon, 
shortly. 

“What!” exclaimed the priest, with face as 
white as his beard. “The queen knows ?” 

“Yes, but fear nothing. Your secret is safe. 
She has no suspicion of who my preservers were. 
More — I am pardoned. My life is my own, to do 
with as I will. This very night I leave Memphis 
and Egypt forever. To yon I owe thanks, 
although, perhaps, it would have been better had 
you left me to die.” 

“You return to Greece ?” asked Serapion, with 
a sigh of relief which he could not repress. 

“Yes.” 

At this moment the door was thrown suddenly 
back, and Iras hurriedly entered the room. Pha- 
ron, who happened to be just behind the door, was 
concealed from her. 

The girl’s eyes were red with weeping, and she 
was evidently in a high state of nervous excite- 
ment. 

“Uncle,” she exclaimed, “have you seen 


112 


SAliDOtl’S CLEOPATRA. 


Pharon ?• He has been at the palace, seen the 
queen, and I fear the worst.” 

“Yes,” replied Serapion. “He is safe, and 
leaves for Greece to -night. The queen has par- 
doned him.” 

“Pardoned him !” she exclaimed, rapturously. 
“Now the gods be praised for that ! For, had it 
been otherwise, two lives, not one, would have 
passed away before day-break.” 

And, unheeding the old man’s warning glance, 
she proceeded hurriedly : 

“I care not what happens now. He is safe. 
He, whom I love.” 

Serapion raised his hand to check her, but it 
was too late. As she spoke, she turned a little, 
and in so doing found herself face to face with 
Pharon. 

For a moment they stood silently looking into 
each other’s eyes. Perhaps, in that moment, they 
both realized what might have, nay, would have 
been, had Cleopatra never existed. 

Iras was the first to speak. 

“You have heard ?” she said. “But what mat- 
ters it? I prefer it so. Your life is saved. We 
shall never meet again, but perhaps afar off, in 
that beautiful land that was the birthplace of us 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


113 


both, you will now and then give a thought to her 
who loved you here so hopelessly and so well. 
No ! do not answer me. Do not speak. I know 
all that you would say. But once, before you go, 
kiss me — kiss me as you would were I dying.” 

There were tears in his eyes as he bent forward 
and pressed his lips to hers. In another moment 
he was gone. 

Iras stood motionless, until the sound of his 
retreating footsteps died away. Then, throwing 
herself into her uncle’s arms, she bnrst into a 
passionate, uncontrollable fit of weeping. 

Her dream of love was ended. 


114 


HAJWOU’a VLMUFATMA. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE MESSENGER OF WOE. 

Furens Qtiid Foemina / 

Day lias followed day, week Has followed week, 
month has followed month, and still no news 
from Antony, His letters, which at first were 
daily, have now ceased. No longer does the ibis 
appear, hearing beneath its wing the scroll of 
papyrus ; no longer does the cloud of dust upon 
the desert announce a horseman ; there is no 
messenger of any sort. 

It is night. On the flat roof of the palace of 
Raineses, stretched upon a couch covered with 
the skins of wild beasts, lies Cleopatra, as, in 
spite of all entreaties, she has lain night after 
night, so that she might catch, from this point of 
vantage, the first sign of any approaching messen- 
ger. Beneath the skull cap, composed of a lat- 
ticed crown of pearls, edged with large turquoises, 
escapes the heavy masses of her dark, silken 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


115 


hair. About her hips is bound, sasb-wise, a tiger 
skin, confining the folds of her robe of diapha- 
nous black stuff, studded with jewels. 

Seated on the roof at the foot of the couch, 
with her arms thrown across it, and her head rest- 
ing upon her arms, sleeps Iras, worn out with 
fatigue. Very white looks the delicate face in 
the flickering light of the blazing torches, which 
are placed in each comer of the roof. At the 
head of the couch, stands Charmian, her eyes 
fixed wonderingly upon her royal mistress. 
Never before has Charmian seen the queen in 
any such condition as this, absolutely pining with 
love and longing. Her lovers, heretofore, have 
simply been to her the amusement of the moment, 
or an instrument by which she could further her 
ambition, her insatiable craving for power. Of 
each she had quickly tired, and of each she had 
quickly rid herself. But, now, it was far differ- 
ent, and Charmian was lost in wonder and bewil- 
derment. The explanation was simple enough. 
Cleopatra’s proud heart had at last met its mas- 
ter, and for the first and only time in her life she 
loved, loved with an unquenchable passion, which 
would know no satiety, and which death alone 
could end. 


lie 


SAIWOU'S ClEOPATliA. 


Upon the roof were two other persons, Sera- 
pion, who had been summoned by the queen to 
read the stars, and unfold to her what they dis- 
closed of the future, and Kephren, the captain of 
the gnard. The latter, fully armed, stood as sen- 
tinel near the flight of steps which led to the 
rooms below. There were peace and happiness 
in the faithful man’s heart. For some inscruta- 
ble reason, which he neither knew nor cared to 
fathom, Cleopatra had been pleased to revoke her 
orders in regard to the discovery of the concealed 
archer, and Kephren was permitted once more 
to guard the person of his beloved sovereign. 

The view from the roof of the palace was su- 
perb in its extent and somber grandeur. 

The skies, lately flushed by the supreme splen- 
dor of the dying day, were now of a blue darkness 
from which shone out big bright stars, while low 
on the horizon was a faint, greenish-gold belt. 
The silver disk of the moon hung high in the 
heavens, bathing all in a mellow radiance, and 
flashing upon the sluggish, winding waters of 
the Nile. In all directions, stretched away a long, 
limitless plain of undulating sand, sparkling with 
a steely radiance in the moonlight, and recalling 
a sea of ice, or the surface of a lake softly stirred 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


117 


by a summer’s breeze. There was nothing to 
break the awe-inspiring immensity save the 
plateau on which rested the imposing vastness 
of the three pyramids, the tombs of Khufu, 
Khafra and Menkera, with their polished lime- 
stone sides covered with pictures and hieroglyph- 
ics that told the glorious history of the warrior 
kings. Keeping guard at the foot of the steps 
that led' to the platform was the gigantic sphinx, 
the symbol of Horns, whose serene face bore the 
calm repose of the lonely land around it. 

Motionless, as if a recumbent statue herself, lay 
the queen of this inscrutable land, her dark eyes 
fixed somberly upon the horizon. 

Cleopatra’s confidence, inspired by the words 
of the Greek slave, had been but short-lived. As 
day after day went by, with still no news of 
Antony, all her courage failed. She left all the 
cares of state to her ministers, and, attended only 
by her tire-women and Kephren, spent all her 
time in a moody watching for some sign from her 
recreant lover. Of Pharon she thought nothing 
save to regret the impulse of pity that had led 
her to give him his life, and to feel an occasional 
anger that she had neglected to demand the name 
of the one under whose inspiration he had fired 


118 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


the arrow. Since the day of her interview with 
the Greek, Diomedes had not been seen, bnt the 
qneen, tortured by anxiety as she was, gave but 
slight thought to his disappearance, and certainly 
did not connect it in any way with Pharon’s par- 
tial revelation. 

Her brain, her heart was filled with Antony. 
Her eyes saw nought of the landscape outspread 
before them, but, as in a mirage, there seemed to 
rise before her a vision of the man who had 
grown to be all the world to her, whom she loved 
with all the ardor of her fiery nature. The love ■ 
she gave him was not all virgin, true, it had in it 
an alloy of baser metal, but what it lacked in pur- 
ity, it atoned for by its strength and unwavering 
constancy. She was his and his alone, heart, 
body, and soul. She fancied she saw once more 
Antony’s handsome face, with its deep, passion- 
fraught eyes looking into hers as they had done 
so often during those days of wild revelry after 
she had home him away, a willing prisoner, from 
Tarsus. She fancied that he stood there before 
her with arms outstretched ready to clasp her in 
close embrace. 

Overpowered by the picture which her imagin- 
ation had conjured up, she half started from the 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


119 


couch, and wildly flinging out her white anus 
toward the phantom figure, she cried, in loud, 
thrilling tones : 

‘ ‘Antony ! Antony ! ’ ’ 

The cry swept over the flat expanse of sand, 
which returned no echo ; the only echo was in the 
lonely queen’s heart. 

Startled, Iras awoke and raised her head, and 
Charmian, approaching nearer, knelt down beside 
the queen. 

“Madame! Royal mistress!” she said, sooth- 
ingly. 

At the words, the queen’s face lost its strained 
expression, and, with a long, shuddering sigh, she 
sank back upon the couch. Then, as she caught 
sight of the white-robed figure of Serapion, who 
was standing a short distance away, she raised 
herself eagerly upon one elbow, and motioned the 
priest to approach. 

For an instant she eyed him with a peculiar 
expression, half scorn, half reverence. She had 
summoned him to her presence to hear what pre- 
dictions he could make in regard to Antony’s 
speedy return. Cleopatra’s intelligence was too 
keen for her at ordinary times to thoroughly trust 
in the augeries and omens in which the people of 


120 


SARDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


that age had such implicit confidence, but still 
she was not without a vain of superstition, and, 
in this hour of doubt and suspicion, she was 
ready to seize upon anything that could give even 
an instant’s hope to her tronbled heart. 

“Holy priest of our Holy Mother,” she said, 
“speak ! What says Isis as to the future ?” 

At these words, although he had been expect- 
ing them, the priest trembled. His prophecies, 
in regard to Antony, had failed so often, that he 
did not dare to again risk incnrring Cleopatra’s 
displeasure. 

“To the Great Queen only the truth must be 
spoken,” he replied; “the oracle of Isis is 
strangely silent.” 

The queen made an impatient movement. 

“There are other methods of divination besides 
consulting the oracles of the gods,” she said. 
“The alites, for instance. What do the flight of 
the birds portend ?” 

“Great Queen,” replied Serapion, more and 
more troubled, “your summons came too late for 
that. Only in the light of the day can the sig- 
nificance of the noise and flight of winged crea- 
tures be interpreted.” 

Cleopatra’s brow grew dark. 


SAIWOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


121 


“At all events,” slie said, sliortly, “it is the 
time to consult those bright-eyed messengers 
above. Look into the heavens and tell me what 
your art reads there. And look to it,” she added, 
significantly, “that this time your augury proves 
true.” 

Serapion could evade the question no longer. 
With a stifled sigh, he turned his eyes upon the 
stars. Whether the interpreters of signs in those 
days believed in their own predictions or not is a 
mooted question. It is said that when two augurs 
chanced to meet they would exchange a smile. 
The people, however, believed in them implicitly, 
and no undertaking of any importance was put 
into operation without consulting and blindly 
following the oracles. 

After a long scrutiny of the starry heavens, 
Serapion spoke : 

“Yes, the stars, that never lie, tell me that, even 
now, a message is on its way from the noble 
triumvir, but whether with good or evil tidings is 
not revealed. The Great Queen will not have 
long to wait.” 

“ ’Tis well,” said Cleopatra, shortly. “Return 
to-morrow, and see that the alites are not again 
forgotten.” 


122 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


Serapion crossed his arms upon his breast in 
token of reverence and submission, and with 
downcast eyes passed Kephren, and, slowly de- 
scending the stairs, soon vanished from sight. 

Cleopatra threw herself wearily back upon the 
couch and fixed her eyes upon the glittering 
stars. Oh ! would that their predictions might 
come true ! Anything was better than this sus- 
pense, What did this strange silence portend ? 
What stupid pride, what inconceivable folly had 
prompted her to send him to Italy ? And for 
what ? For his own glory, to receive the plau- 
dits of the Romans. Fool, fool that she had been ! 
Now, what cared she for ambition ? She would 
give half her kingdom to be able to call this 
truant bird back again and imprison him once 
more in his gilded cage. 

But, while the queen is lost in contemplation 
of the heavens, and Iras and Charmian, with- 
drawn to a little distance, are talking low together, 
a puff of dust arises upon the horizon. For 
once, the stars have spoken true. A messenger 
of weal or woe is on his way, and the end of his 
journey is close at hand. The queen’s long, 
weary vigil will soon be over, and the truth as 
to Antony’s mysterious silence be known. 


SABDOU'i: CLEOPATRA. 


123 


Faster and faster gallops tlie good liorse^ closer 
and closer approaches the messenger. The pal- 
ace of Rameses is in sight, but none upon the 
roof has as yet perceived him. 

Suddenly the clatter of hoofs rings faintly out 
upon the air. 

With a bound, the queen leaps to her feet, and, 
followed by Charmian and Iras, rushes to the 
edge of the parapet. 

“Look ! Charmian ! See Iras !” she cried, ex- 
ultantly. “A horseman ! A horseman ! The 
gods be praised ! The messenger at last !” 

Breathlessly, they watched the onward gallop 
of the horse until he was close at hand. Then 
Cleopatra cried to the captain of the guard, who 
had remained at his station : 

“Go ! Kephren ! Go ! Meet him ! Bring him 
at once into my presence!” 

The horseman had galloped around to the other 
side of the palace, where the courtyard was, and 
was lost to view. 

In feverish excitement, the queen swept to 
and fro upon the roof, like a caged lioness hungry 
for the food which had been long delayed, until 
the sound of hurried footsteps was heard upon the 
stone steps of the staircase. Then she stopped 


124 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


short, and with both hands pressed to her wildl}'-- 
beating heart, awaited the appearance of the mes- 
senger. 

In another moment, Kephren issued from below, 
followed by a man naked, save for the breech- 
cloth about his loins, and covered with the dust 
of travel. 

With a gesture, Kephren indicated the queen, 
and Antony’s messenger, for such indeed he was, 
advanced hurriedly, and prostrated himself at her 
feet. 

“Rise, rise, my friend,” exclaimed Cleopatra, 
with a catch in her voice that betrayed the terri- 
ble excitement she was laboring under. “You 
come from him ? From Antony ?” 

The man arose to his feet, and stood a pace or 
two from her. Either from the weariness of his 
journey, or from some emotion, he was trembling 
from head to foot. 

“Hail, royal Egypt!” he began. “Hail ” 

“Answer my question I” interrupted the queen, 
imperiously. “This is no time for idle ceremony. 
You come from Antony ?” 

“Yes, Great Queen,” replied the messenger, 
with downcast eyes. 

Suddenly, as she looked upon his somber vis- 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


i2£! 


age, a great fear sprang up in the queen’s heart. 
Her cheeks paled, and, in a hollow whisper, she 
asked, tremulously : 

“What means this mournful countenance ? Is 
— is Antony — dead ?” 

“No, he lives — is well.” 

With a wild cry of joy, she stripped her fingers 
of their blazing jewels, and showered them upon 
the messenger. 

“Here ! Take this ! And this ! And this ! 
I could give thee all the jewels of the Orient for 
news like this ! Praised be Isis ! He lives ! He 
lives ! And victorious ?” 

“Yes, the sea has been delivered from the 
pirates. The fleet of Sextus Pompey has been 
captured.” 

Again fell a shower of glittering jewels; brace- 
lets and necklaces this time fell at the feet of the 
messenger, while Cleopatra’s face flushed and her 
breast heaved with triumphant joy. 

But the messenger did not stoop to pick up the 
rewards thus lavishly flung to him. He seemed 
embarassed and wofully ill at ease. 

“But ” he said, at last, and then hesitated, 

as if fearful to proceed. 

Instantly the queen’s face changed. 


126 SAllDOU’S CLEOFATliA. 

“But •” she faltered. “But — oh ! what horror 

lies behind that but !” 

The messenger was silent. 

“By Isis !” continued Cleopatra, a prey to min- 
gled fear and anger. “This is too much. Speak, 
slave ! You have said Antony is alive !” 

The messenger summoned up all his courage, 
and with an evident effort, replied : 

“He is alive, yes. He is not dead to the world, 
hut he is dead to Cleopatra.” 

The queen flung up her head with a dangerous 
glitter in her eye. 

“Go on !” 

The command was so slow and quiet that it 
deceived the messenger, and it was with more 
confidence that he now spoke. 

“Octavius and Antony are reconciled, and, to 
cement the peace of the world, Antony has mar- 
ried Octavia.” 

For an instant the queen stood as if stiffened 
into marble. Her cheeks and lips were the color 
of ashes ; the only .‘J’gn of life was in her eyes, 
which gleamed and glowed like two coals of living 
fire. Then, suddenly, with a fierce, wild cry, like 
that of the tigress, as she is about to rend her 
prey, she sprang savagely upon the unfortunate 


SARDOU’S OLEOPATllA. 


127 


messenger and struck Him with both hands full 
in the face. 

The man, in an agony of terror, fell prostrate 
at her feet. 

Raising her foot, in its golden sandal, she 
spurned him from her, as if he had been some 
venomous beast. Then, looking down upon him, 
in a fury of unbridled passion, she hissed through 
her set teeth, the words cutting the air like so 
many stings of a whip-lash : 

“Return whence you came, messenger of hell, 
and hear my curses to him !” 

The messenger crawled away, only too glad to 
escape with his life. 

“Married!” continued Cleopatra, as if speaking 
to herself, her beautiful features distorted with 
grief and rage. “Married 1 He is married 1 He 
who swore by my eyes, by my lips, never to know 
other kisses than mine ! Married I Oh 1 execra- 
ble treason I By 0ms, the dog of hell I I should 
have guessed it 1 From his lack of tears at Ful- 
via’s death I should have known what to expect 
— have known that once away from me, he would 
forget me ! Married 1 To that woman I Caesar’s 
sister I He was celebrating his marriage feast, 
while I was languishing in solitude, living on the 


128 SAIWOU'S CLEOPATHA. 

liope of seemg him again, ready to give my scep- 
ter for one hour of him ! Poor fool that I was, 
wrapped in tne memory of passed joys, asking 
myself: ‘Where is he? Why does he delay?’ 
Imagining that his thoughts were all of me, that 
he would marry me before assembled Rome, bear 
me away with him, and repeat to me again the 
passionate words that have proved my ruin, while 
I wept with love in his arms ! Oh ! Coward ! 
Coward ! Coward !” 

And, in a paroxysm of rage and despair, the 
unhappy queen flung herself upon the couch, and 
rolled and sobbed there with the ferocity of a wild- 
cat. 

With white faces, Charmian and Iras looked 
on, not daring to speak a word of sympathy or 
comfort. 

Gradually the queen grew calmer, the parox- 
ysm abated, the sobs and cries died away, and 
Anally she raised her tear-stained face from where 
it had been buried in a tiger-skin. Her head- 
dress had fallen off, and her beautiful hair hung 
in dishevelled masses about her shoulders. In 
her hopeless anguish she might have served as a 
model for Niobe. With the pleading gesture of a 
tired child, she stretched out her arms to her 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


129 


women. In a moment they were kneeling at her 
side. 

“Good girls ! Good girls !” she murmured. 

“Alas, dear mistress, calm yourself,” whispered 
Charmian, soothingly, while Iras pressed her lips 
to the queen’s hand. 

“Caesar’s sister !” she moaned. “Yes, the mys- 
tery is explained. A perfidious conquest over — a 
passion chilled ! How true he has remained to 
his nature — ^proud and lowly, player, hero, and 
buffoon ! And through it all, a dupe, ever a 
dupe ! Bewailing C^sar, and at the same time 
flattering his murderers ! Oh, I know him !” 

And, carried away again by her rage, she flung 
aside the hands of Charmian and Iras, and, spring- 
to her feet, proceeded with passionate volubility : 

“Oh ! I know him ! This is the man who robbed 
the house of great Pompey at Rome ; slew Cicero 
most vilely, mean and dastardly in resentment ! 
Death for a speech ! That tongue of glorious 
truth silenced forever ! Oh ! shame ! shame ! 
And yet. I loved him ! Loved him ! Who shall 
dare say it? Loved him as I loved Caesar! 
Never 1 Who dares say it shall die ?” 

With a threatening air, she swept a glance 


130 


SAIiDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


about, as if seeking some one wbo would dare 
assert it. 

“What! He has fled from me ! He has dared 
to love another ! Can it be true ? Mad and inso- 
lent 1 Quit me — prefer the Roman I Who is 
this woman who dares to vie with me in power 
and pride ? Is she beautiful or ugly ? She must 
be beautiful I Oh I I would like to see her ! 
What frightful torment not to have an image 
against which to direct one’s hatred, to strike in 
the air and curse at hazard. Ah 1 that messen- 
ger 1 he must have seen Octavia 1 Bring him, 
Kephren I He will tell me what I want to know. 
Bring him before me I” 


SAlWOU'ti CLJUOPATBA. 


131 


CHAPTER XI. 

BENEATH THE IBIS’ WING. 

It was with great difficulty that Kephren could 
persuade the terror-stricken messenger to appear 
again before the queen, and it was only by dint of 
threats that he finally succeeded in doing so. 

When the messenger emerged npon the roof he 
was somewhat reassured, however, by the exceed- 
ing graciousness of Cleopatra’s reception. She 
had apparently quite recovered her self-possession, 
and, in the sweetest of tones, she apologized for 
the rough treatment to which she had subjected 
him. 

“You were innocent,” she said, “and I should 
not have confounded the master with his mouth- 
piece. Approach !” 

Still trembling, the messenger obeyed. Cleo- 
patra threw herself nonchantly upon the couch, 
and asked, with a smile : 

“What is your name ?” 


132 


SAKDOU’S CLEOVATRA. 


“Lucullus.” 

“Ivucullus? Tell me, l/ucullus, do you know 
Octavius ?” 

“Yes, queen.” 

“And kis sister, Octavia ?” 

The messenger hesitated a moment. Was this 
a trap that was being laid for kim ? 

“Answer,” repeated Cleopatra. “Do you know 
Octavia ?” 

“I do not know her, queen.” 

“Have you ever seen her ?” 

“I saw her once, at the festival of Juno.” 

“Is she beantiful ?” 

As the messenger was about to answer, he saw 
Charmian, who was standing behind the queen, 
make a sign to him to answer in the negative. 
“No, madam, she is white and lank.” 

The qneen smiled. 

“Yonng ?” 

“No. At least she looks not so.” 

“As tall as I ?” 

“Oh, not near so tall.” 

“The color of her hair?” 

“Brown.” 

“Her eyes ?” 

“Small, and pale in hue.” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


133 


Cleopatra clapped her hands and laughed aloud 
■vvdth fiendish glee. 

“Do yoit hear, Charmian ? A sickly, ugly 
dwarf ! And does she hope to vie with me ? Iras, 
pick up those baubles, and give them to this faith- 
ful messenger. Good Lucullus, we will make 
amends for our hasty action. You can go.” 

But after the messenger had departed, Cleopa- 
tra’s face clouded over again. Had he spoken the 
truth ? Or rather, fearing her anger, had he not 
framed his answers to please her ? She must 
know the truth. She would know. But how ? 
How, save by seeing with her oivn eyes, and judg- 
ing for herself Yes, she would go to Rome, and 
in spite of all danger confront her faithless lover 
and his new-made wife. And at once ! Not a 
moment should be lost. 

“Kephren !” 

The captain of the guard approached, and bent 
his knee. 

“Kephren, can I trust you ?” 

“May the thunderbolt strike and the lightning 
blast me when I am false to thee. Great Queen,” 
was the fervent answer. 

Yes, she knew she could trust him. She had 
tried him often, and never found him wanting. 


134 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Listen, then, to my commands, and carry them 
out to the letter. To-night, good Kephren, you, 
Iras, and myself set sail for Rome.” 

A cry of horrified amazement broke simul- 
taneously from the lips of the captain of the 
guard and the two women. Charmian started 
forward and was about to speak, hut, with an im- 
perious gesture, Cleopatra commanded silence. 

“Kephren,” she continued, with calm decision, 
“send at once a trusted messenger to the port to 
inquire what vessel can take us on board and 
weigh anchor at once. Do not mention me. I 
shall pass as a Greek slave, like Iras here, and 
we will all three depart, protected by the gods and 
the silence and darkness of the night.” 

When Kephren had departed, Charmian threw 
herself on her knees beside the queen in an atti- 
tude of supplication. 

“Oh, beloved queen!” she exclaimed, “do not, 
do not, I implore, depart in this way without a 
guard, without friends, without ships, without an 
army ! What I would you confide yourself to 
strange gods ? Think of the perils and the dan- 
gers you must undergo !” 

Cleopatra smiled scornfully, but, at the same 


SARD 0 U’S CLEOPA TEA. 


135 


time, slie laid lier hand indulgently on Cliarmian’s 
head. 

“I have already incurred dangers graver yet 
than these you fear for me. Have you forgotten, 
Charmian ? Do you not remember the day that 
Apollodorus took me, on a boat, alone with him, 
to the house of Caesar, and carried me on his back 
wrapped in a carpet ? Ah, it was stifling ! I 
could scarcely breathe. ‘What do you bring me 
there ?’ ‘General, it is the queen. A richer pres- 
ent has never been made you.’ Caesar began to 
laugh, and so did I. I was fifteen then. No, 
Charmian, no,” she continued, her eyes flashing 
with angry determination. “The greatest danger 
for me is this outrage to which I have been sub- 
jected to-day, and which threatens to destroy all 
that I have striven for. At all costs, I must find 
Mark Antony once more, or great Egypt and I to- 
gether will perish from his desertion. Say no more. 
My plans are irrevocably formed. Give me your 
tablets and stylet. I wish to write down my orders.” 

Sadly and without a word, Charmian obeyed. 
She knew, from bitter experience, how useless it 
was to oppose the haughty will of the queen. But 
it was with direful forebodings that she watched 
her rnistress rapidly writing. 


136 


SARDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


“What I have inscribed here,” said Cleopatra, 
at last, handing back the tablets, “must be faith- 
fully followed out each day, as if they were orders 
emanating from the moment. Our neighbors are 
at peace with us, and the people are tranquil. I 
can, without imprudence, abandon the city. But 
it must be believed that I am here, in this palace. 
When the priests come to-morrow, you yourself 
receive them. Tell them that I am ill to death, 
that fever is consuming me, that I detest the sight 
of all my subjects, that my reason is wandering. 
Strike your breast, and pretend to weep.” 

“It will be sincere, alas !” said Charmian, sadly. 
“If you leave me, I shall have plenty of real tears.” 

“You will reign in my place, Charmian,” con- 
tinued Cleopatra, allowing the interruption to pass 
unnoticed. “No one will ever believe that I would 
depart without you. No, you will remain ; that 
is the best means to conceal my absence.” 

But Charmian was determined to be heard. A 
woman of a hard, cold, skeptical nature, as far as i 
all others were concerned, she loved the queen de- 
votedly, and, if words of hers could do aught to 
prevent this mad undertaking, she was determined 
to speak them, even if by so doing she incurred 
Cleopatra’s anger. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


137 


So she said, firmly : 

“Queen, I cannot remain. I must share your 
danger.” 

Cleopatra stamped her foot, angrily. 

“Say no more!” she said, hanghtily. “You will 
remain. I wish it.” 

'Charmian recognized the futility of any further 
discussion on this point, hut she was about to 
combat still further Cleopatra’s resolution to take 
this journey to Rome, when Kephren returned 
from his mission and interrnpted the words that 
were on her lips. 

“Well,” cried Cleopatra, eagerly turning toward 
him. “What news ?” 

“The Antoniad is ready, and can sail at once.” 

“The Antoniad ! Ah, that name is of good 
omen. Come, Iras, let us hasten to make our 
preparations. We must start before daylight.” 

But once more Charmian bravely sought to 
interfere. 

“What!” she exclaimed. “For the love of a 
Roman, would you immolate your kingdom ?” 

With a fiery exclamation, Cleopatra tnmed 
upon her, but something in the woman’s look 
recalled to her all her lifelong love and devotion, 
3,nd she spaothereci the an^er that was ready tQ 


138 


Svl UD 0 U’S VL EOF A TRA. 


burst forth in unmeasured denunciation of Char- 
inian’s obstinate opposition to her royal will. 

“The love of a Roman !” she repeated. “Ah, 
Egypt without him is no more than a vain phan- 
tom. Antony alone can restore to this sad coun- 
try the splendor of its former days.” 

As she spoke, she turned to go, but her foot- 
steps were arrested by a sudden exclamation from 
Kephren, who at the same time pointed upward 
to the skies. Cleopatra raised her eyes in the di- 
rection of the gesture. Ha ! what was that sil- 
very flash against the darkness of the heavens ? 
The Avings of an ibis, bearing, perhaps, some fur- 
ther message from Antony. But in close pursuit 
of the sacred bird was an enormous eagle. Already 
it rose in the air to pounce upon its prey. 

“Quick, Kephren, quick !” screamed Cleopatra. 
“Fire upon that eagle. Quick, or it will be too 
late !” 

“But if I kill the ibis !” exclaimed Kephren. 

“No matter. Fire — Are, I tell you ! It is at 
my command.” 

To kill an ibis was an unforgiveable sin. But 
not for one instant did Kephren hesitate. He 
would have boldly faced all the terrors of the in- 
fernal regions at the command of Egypt’s Queen, 


SARDOU’t: CLEOPATRA. 13 y 

Like a flash, he brought his bow into position and 
sent an arrow whizzing into the clear ether. As 
fate would have it, however, his fears were realized. 
The eagle was unhurt, and with one startled cry 
abandoned its prey and sailed proudly away into 
the distance. The shaft had struck the ibis 
squarely in the breast, and, like a falling star, it 
flashed through the air and struck heavily upon 
the roof j ust within the parapet. 

For a moment all were stricken with horror. 
Even Cleopatra shuddered at the enormity of the 
offense committed. Then, without a word, she 
motioned Kephren to bring her the bird. 

With white face the captain of the guard 
obeyed. Tenderly the queen received the sacred 
bird, its silvery plumage all dabbled in blood, and 
its bright eyes already dimmed with the film of 
death. 

Yes, beneath one of its wings was fastened a 
tiny roll of papyrus. With trembling hands 
Cleopatra unloosed it ; then laying the ill-fated 
ibis reverently upon the couch, she hastened past 
Charmian and Iras, who, still horrified at the sac- 
rilege, were close clasped in one another’s arms, 
and, approaching one of the blazing torches, un- 
rolled the parchment. 


140 SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 

In the flickering light she read these words : 

“Arm your fleet of war and sail at once for 
Actium. Antony.” 

The parchment fell fluttering from her nerve- 
less fingers. What could be the meaning of this 
strange summons ? What ! Antony demanded 
the aid of Egypt ! Against whom, if not against 
Octavius? Yes, since sending the messenger to 
announce his reconciliation with Octavius and his 
marriage to Octavia, he had quarrelled with the 
brother, and, therefore, undoubtedly repudiated the 
sister. Under what other circumstances would he 
have dared appeal to Egypt’s Queen, whom he 
had so foully wronged ? 

Cleopatra’s beautiful face was aglow with an- 
ticipated triumph as she returned to where 
Kephren and the two women stood, still under the 
spell of the terror which had seized them on ac- 
count of the sacrilege that had been committed. 

“What is done, is done,” she said, noticing their 
downcast faces, “and cannot be recalled. It was 
the will of the gods, and the gods will pardon. 
Charmian, give the ibis to Phraor, the chief of the 
royal embalmers. Tell him to spare neither per- 
fumes nor spices, and to adorn the body with the 
richest of ornaments. I wish that the faithful 


BAUDOU’ti CLEOPATRA. 


141 


messeiigei' who has given his life for me should 
repose one day by my side. The message,” she 
continued, with a rapid change of tone, “requests 
me to repair at once to Actium with ships of war. 
He has, therefore, quitted Rome and is about to 
engage in battle. With Octavius, probably. Ah, 
that is what I must know, and without delay.” 

“Then,” said Charmian, quickly, “you will go 
with the fleet ?” 

“No, my first plans shall be carried out. 
Kephren, Iras, and I will proceed to-night on the 
Antoniad, only for Actium, not for Rome. The 
fleet can follow after. Do as I have bidden you. 
Give out that I am ill, and let Egypt believe me 
still in Memphis. Kephren, sound the alarm — 
call together the sailors, and send a messenger to 
order the ships at Alexandria to proceed to Ac- 
tium.” 

“But,” said Charmian, imploringly, “may not 
this be a plot to bring you into the power of the 
Romans. At least, think of your life ” 

With flashing eyes and cheeks crimsoned with 
excitement, the queen drew her superb figure up 
to its full height. Like some warrior goddess she 
looked as she stood there, the silver radiance of 
the moon lighting up her rare loveliness. 


142 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Clianniaii, I wish to see that woman !” she 
exclaimed, in tones that vibrated with intense 
passion. “A single look, a single one, will tell 
me the extent of her power. Virtues, they say, 
are so many charms. To fight with her, I must 
know, at least, the weapons she possesses. The 
struggle shall be between us two, and before him ! 
Am I, then, an object to inspire satiety and dis- 
gust ? A sad Ariadne, a pale matron, an ugly 
Sappho, to be thrown aside and abandoned ? Have 
my flatterers, perchance, lauded too highly my 
beauty ? I am a queen. Of what use to me is 
my royalty, the power and splendor of my crown, 
if I cannot please this man whom I love ? Why, 
if the beauty of that pale Roman pleases him, if 
her will is his law, then the lowest scullion in my 
kitchens is more royal than I. I am a queen, I 
am a daughter of the Ptolemies, I love — I deign 
to love, and I am not loved ! And this man goes 
to seek an innocent, conjugal happiness, after 
having carelessly cast to me a few days of his life ! 
His love for her is serious, his love for me a pas- 
time. Why should he remain faithful to Cleo- 
patra ? Cleopatra was but his mistress. Octavia 
is his wife. So, where virtue reigns, my influence 
expires ? Antony, this trick of yours will cost 


SARD OU'S CLEOFA TRA. 


143 


you an empire. Come, let us go ! I know not 
what your summons means. I care not. I shall 
arrive too late to change anything, but I shall 
arrive in ample time for vengeance !” 

Like the incarnation of impending fate, she 
swept rapidly across the roof, until she reached 
the stone pillars, which flanked on either side the 
opening of the staircase. Then, suddenly, as if 
by magic, the offended majesty of the outraged 
queen disappeared and the heartbreak of the for- 
saken woman asserted itself 

The lines about her mouth softened and her eyes 
filled with tears. She turned, and with a mighty, 
unconquerable longing, stretched out her arms in 
the direction of Actium. 

“Oh, Antony, Antony ! I could not hate thee 
so bitterly did I not love thee so well I” 


144 


SARDOU’H GLEOPArP.A, 


CHAPTER XII. 

IN THE ETERNAL CITY. 

The news brought by the messenger was only 
too true. Antony, in spite of all his vows and 
protestations to Cleopatra, had married his rival’s 
sister, Octavia. On his arrival in Rome, he had 
been received with acclamations of joy by both 
soldiers and populace. 

With Pompey threatening them by sea, Antony 
was the man they looked to as their leader. Oc- 
tavius was not a man to inspire personal devo- 
tion ; he was essentially a statesman, cool and 
cautious, while Antony was a military chief, fiery 
and impetuous. Moreover, the latter was no gen- 
eral of inaction ; he was always to be found in the 
midst of the fray, inspiring and urging on his 
soldiers by acts of personal daring. He was not 
only their commander, but their companion, fight- 
ing by their side. It is not strange, therefore, 
that his captains and his soldiers adored him and 
were ready to fight for him to the last gasp. 


SAMD 0 U'S ClKUPA Tit A. 


145 


After tlie complete route of Pompey, Antony’s 
popularity was greatly increased, and Octavius 
became seriously alarmed. He had always feared 
Antony, and now he feared him more than ever. 
As for Lepidus, the third triumvir, he was no 
more than a pack-horse. His weakness of char- 
acter and lack both of military talents and states- 
manship made him far inferior to his two col- 
leagues. No, Lepidus was a nonentity, and Octa- 
vius paid but little attention to him. Antony was 
the sole man that might stand in the way of 
Caesar’s ambitions, and Antony was the one to be 
propitiated, if possible. 

In his boundless ambition, Octavius had re- 
solved to be the master of Rome and so of the 
world. He realized that the time had not yet 
come to assume sole control of Rome, which he 
afterward so brilliantly did, but he never once 
lost sight of his aim and the diplomatic game he 
was playing. How to bind Antony to him and 
prevent him from balking his plans was the ques- 
tion, and, after much cogitation, he hit upon a 
project which appeared to solve the difl&culty. 

Octavius Caesar had an only sister, Octavia, a 
woman of great personal attractions and of un- 
usual mental accomplishments. Why not marry 


146 


SAIiDOU’S CLEGFATRA. 


her to Antony ? This would make the interests 
of the two men identical, and ratify and confirm 
the reconciliation that had taken place between 
them. 

Octavius, therefore, proposed the match. To 
obtain his sister’s consent was no difficult matter. 
She was gentle and affectionate and a lover cf 
peace and harmony ; moreover Antony’s superior 
talents and graces of person had already made an 
impression upon her heart. 

With Antony, however, it was a very different 
matter. His whole heart was with Cleopatra, and 
he was longing for the time to come when he 
could return to her. At first, he absolutely de- 
clined to listen to the proposition. But the peo- 
ple of Rome and the leaders were extremely anx- 
ious that the arrangement should be consum- 
mated, knowing as they did that the peace of the 
world depended upon the relations that existed 
between these two men, and Antony gradually 
allowed himself to be won over. It was Ventid- 
ius, his old friend and comrade in arms, and the 
man of all others for whom he had perhaps the 
greatest affection and veneration, who finally 
wrung from him a reluctant consent. 

“This unmanly love for the Queen of Egypt 


SABDOU't: CLEOPATRA. 


147 


means war,” Ventidius said to him, when he 
urged as a reason for refusing the proffered 
alliance that it would he treachery to Cleopatra. 
“Yes, war I” 

“No ! It would mean war if this marriage took 
place,” retorted Antony. “At present, Egypt is 
ours, she is our ally. I control her wheat, her 
soldiers, her immense fleet of war. I have more 
than a hundred vessels at anchor in her ports. 
Let me go there. Here I am a slave. Egypt is 
my country. There I am my own master, there at 
least I can breathe freely. There I can live as I 
please, and no one presumes to dictate to me. It 
is undoubtedly a flne thing to be a Roman, but 
not in Rome. Here, one is forced to act a part^ 
and there is always some carper who cries shame 
upon your life. Gayety and brilliancy are pro- 
scribed as crimes, and one is forced to be a hypo- 
crite if he desires the Romans’ esteem.” 

“You surely have that.” 

“Of the army, yes, but not of the flckle popu- 
lace. If you are generous and scatter gold broad- j 
cast there is a hue and outcry, and so likewise if' 
you hoard your money. My tastes that you call 
capricious were really wise measures. To conquer 
the East I adopted its customs. No ! This mar- 


148 


SABDOW’S CLEOPATRA. 


riage horrifies me. I could not live in the cold- 
ness of a home with Octavia. Then, this Forum 
is full of unpleasant memories ; it was there that 
I snffered that deadly insult ; it was there that 
Cicero attacked me when I was defenseless. 
Rome, for me, means him. I see him every- 
where, and in all the echoes, I hear only his 
voice.” 

“Did not his death — and what a death — avenge 
you?” 

“Does death ever avenge a mortal injnry? 
But let us talk no more of him ! Away from 
Rome, I love her and my sword is ever ready for 
her defense. But to live here is like living beneath 
a pall.” 

“Oh ! vain excuses behind which you seek to 
take refuge !” exclaimed Ventidius, his hot tem- 
per momentarily getting the better of him. “What 
you miss here are your nights of orgies, the de- 
lights of your culpable love !” 

“Well, yes,” retorted Antony, no less hotly. 
“Cleopatra has my every thought. No longer 
seek to detain me. I am no more a soldier, no 
more a Roman. I am a miserable man, whom a 
mad love torments — a lover pitilessly separated 
from his mistress. I hear her cries ! I divine 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


149 


from here her despair! I wish to console her. 

I wish — I wish to see her 1” 

Ventidius was silent. His anger, quickly 
aroused, was quickly allayed. He saw that he 
had made a mistake, and he sought to atone for it. 

“Antony,” he said, very earnestly, after a long 
pause, “if it were a question of yourself, of your 
interests alone, of your happiness, in short, I 
would resign myself to see your valor lulled to 
sleep, your name extinct. But it is the fatal love 
of a queen who is our natural enemy. It means 
the Roman Kmpire destroyed, ruined, lost for- 
ever! What matters, in such a case, her tears 
and cries ? General your foolish pity dishonors 
you. And, in the name of our old friendship, in 
the name of your country, in the name of Rome, 
who will judge you, I implore you to abandon 
Bgypt and wed Octavia.” 

“It seems to me,” said Antony, sullenly, “that 
Octavius has his friends, and that they serve him 
well.” 

“Do you think that ?” cried Ventidius. “Ah! 
that speech was unworthy of you. Pompey is 
dead. Lepidus is in Africa. Without you, 
Csesar would have sole sway. But he offers to 
give , you his sister, his well-beloved sister, and. 


150 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


for the sake of your old comrades, accept. Are 
you then insensible to the love of Octavia ? She 
is young, she is beautiful ” 

“She is Caesar’s sister,” said Antony, slowly, 
but in a less obstinate tone than he had used 
heretofore. 

Ventidius saw this, and hastened to say : 

“Octavius dreams of a crown. The less worthy 
he is, the more he wishes, the more he dares. 
His genius is doubtful, and the name of Caesar is 
a heavy burden to carry. I tell you, old friend, 
that you alone can curb his ambition, defend our 
rights and preserve us from the shameful yoke of 
a king. You alone can maintain the dignity and 
freedom of Rome. Roman, sacrifice yourself! 
Roman, preserve your country I Not I alone, 
but the whole civilized world demands this of 
you!” 

Antony was deeply moved, and at last, as has 
been said, agreed to accept Octavia as a wife. 

The marriage took place. Antony felt but lit- 
tle affection for his bride, beautiful and gentle as 
she was, but he could not but respect her for her 
virtues, and for a time she exercised a most salu- 
tary influence over him. But it was not possible 
for any woman long to hold a man who remem- 


SAIW OU’S CLEOPA TliA. 


151 


bered tbe seductive graces of the Egyptian Queen. 
Soon Antony grew restive under the restraint of 
a domestic life, the longing to see once more the 
face of the woman he adored, took complete pos- 
session of him, and he sought for some excuse to 
break his bonds. 

The opportunity was not slow in presenting 
itself. 

After the defeat of Sextus Pompey, a new divi- 
sion of the Roman world was arranged, Antony 
taking the East and Octavius the West, while 
Eepidus had to put up with Africa. But a dis- 
pute now arose over the partition of Sicily, of 
which Octavius claimed the whole. Antony at 
once seized upon this as an excuse for a rupture. 
A violent quarrel ensued, and before a reconcilia- 
tion could be effected, Antony hurriedly left 
Rome, knowing full well what would be the con- 
sequences of his action, but caring little, absorbed 
as he was in his passionate desire to see Cleopa- 
tra once more. He proceeded to Actium, on the 
west ‘coast of Greece, and commanded the officers 
and soldiers of his army to join him there. From 
Actium also he sent the message to Egypt. 

Octavius was exceedingly enraged at Antony’s 
action, and his old feelings of hostility broke 


152 


SARD OU’S Cl EOF A TEA. 


forth anew, heightened, as they were, by the aban- 
donment of his sister, to whom he was sincerely 
attached. He ordered Octavia to leave Antony’s 
house and come to him, but she refused, declaring 
that the house of her husband, whatever that 
husband might be guilty of, was the place where 
it was her duty to remain. 

With remarkable self-abnegation, the noble 
woman sought to repair the breach that had been 
made between her husband and her brother. 

She procured an interview with Octavius, and 
pleaded her husband’s cause with all the courage 
and' energy she could command. She entreated 
her brother to delay and not take such measures 
as would make “her the most miserable of women. 
Of the two most powerful men in the world, she 
was the wife of one and the sister of the other. 
If violent counsels were to be listened to and war 
were to ensue, she would be the one to suffer 
the most deeply. For, whichever side conquered, 
she would be forced to grieve. 

Octavius, cool and calculating as he was, did 
not remain insensible to his sister’s distress. 
But his resentment at Antony’s baseness, and his 
fear of him as the chief obstacle in the way of 
his ownambitiousdesigns,remainedas keen as ever. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


163 


“This pretended anger of Antony’s,” he said, 
“is bnt an excnse. He goes to rejoin Cleopatra, 
My sister, do not allow your pride to come between 
us. I am your best friend; tell me the truth. 
Antony has betrayed us, and forsaken us. You 
know it as well as I.” 

“Even if that be true,” replied Octavia, sadly 
but firmly, “I forgive him.” 

“But I cannot forgive him so easily. All 
Rome shall know that my sister ” 

“Oh ! I beseech you, no !” interrupted Octa- 
via, with an imploring gesture. “Whatever your 
anger may be, never speak my name. Do what- 
ever else you like ! Make your common friends 
his enemies, tell them that it is your desire to 
reign alone over the empire, and to crush your 
rival, but do not speak to them of the wrongs I 
have suffered or have still to suffer at his hands. 
Do not speak to them of the sorrows of my life. 
Of what importance to the Romans are the tears 
of Octavia? Break the bond that has united 
you, if such is your desire, but leave me out of 
your quarrel. Be cruel, but permit me to be 
generous. I love Antony, and I wish the com- 
mon herd, to believe me happy as his wife. I 


154 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


love him, and no one has the right to accuse 
him, when I do not complain.” 

“But,” persisted Octavius, “he has insulted 
you — and me.” 

“I do not feel the insult. No ! Antony’s great 
virtue is his courage. And the love of so great a 
hero can well be purchased at the price of a few 
salt tears. What matters Cleopatra or any other 
woman ? He can only love them in his hours of 
intoxication. It is I whom he cherishes when 
his reason asserts itself, I whom he seeks by his 
own fireside, I to whom he promises the future of 
his life. It is I whom he respects, and it is I who 
am the one to be envied. I alone can follow him 
and care for him, without blushing and without 
fear of witnesses. I alone, the sharer of his great 
renown, have the right to- announce his successes 
to the army, to send to the senate his glorious 
flags and to offer in his name a sacrifice to the 
gods. You see, my brother, mine is the better 
part.” 

And a smile of pride illumined for a moment 
the face of the injured wife, who thus sought to 
console herself for her slighted charms. 

Octavius also smiled, but it was a smile of ex- 
ceeding bitterness. 


SARDOU’8 CLEOPATRA. 


155 


“And yet.” he said, slowly, “he has left you to 
join the queen. You see that he deceives you.” 

Octavia’s face became sad again. 

“He will write to me, soon,” she murmured. 

“He will not write to you !” retorted Octavius, 
violently. “I know all his projects, his every 
step. He has gone to seek Cleopatra again ; 
that is no longer a mystery. They will arm 
against me all the kings of the Orient. In spite 
of us, Antony is assured of the aid of those whom 
he has conquered ; they will all fight for him. 
The queen will have as allies her powerful neigh- 
bors ; Adallas, King of Thrace, Herod of Judaea, 
Amyntas and Polemon, the King of the Medes, 
the King of Lybia, the King of Arabia, and 
twenty others, will furnish her soldiers and gold. 
And that is not all. Antony dares to accuse 
your brother. He complains loudly that the 
division of empire was an arbitrary one. I con- 
quered Sicily, and yet he demands half of it. 
He declares that I deposed Lepidus, wrongfully 
and mercilessly, that I have confiscated all his 
property to my own use, and that I have ships of 
his which I will not give up. And every day I 
hear of some fresh insult that his lips have 
uttered. All this proves to me that Antony is 


156 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


weary of peace. He contemplates war. So be 
it. He will not find me unprepared !” 

At these words, Octavia threw herself on her 
knees beside her brother’s chair, seized his hand, 
and raising her tearful eyes to his, said in a trem- 
bling voice : 

“Between you both, jmu will immolate me on 
the altar of your barbarous pride. Brother, hear 
my prayer. Before moving against Antony, 
before judging him, wait, wait a little, Octavius, 
if you love me. Antony is my husband, and our 
griefs are the same. The blows you aim at him 
will fall upon me. Can you do him any harm 
that I shall not feel ? What will become of me 
in the midst of your bloody conflicts ? How will 
the gods comprehend my ever-varying prayers? 
If I go to implore their aid in your favor, alas ! 
To pray for you is to pray against him. What- 
ever be the result, whatever arms are crowned 
with the laurels of victory, there is no hope for 
me, only a choice between tears and tears.” 

“Evil be to him,” cried Octavius, throwing his 
arm about her, “who causes tears to my sister, the 
only one that I love and honor !” 

And these were not idle words. Selfish and 


MiibOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


157 


cold to all otters, Octavius Csesar really loved Iris 
gentle sister. 

“Brother,” said Octavia, caressingly, “let me 
go to Actium. Nay, do not decide hastily. Let 
me try what I can do to repair this dreadful 
breach. Surely, my tears, my prayers will avail 
with him. For the sake of my happiness, brother, 
let me go.” 

Octavius reflected for a moment, and then he 
said, slowly: 

“Very well, you shall go. . But, not alone. I 
will aceompany you, with my legions at my 
back.” 

Octavia’s cheeks blanched, and she uttered a cry 
of alarm. 

“Nay, fear not,” continued Octavius. “I grant 
your request, but you shall go as befits Caesar’s 
sister. I will wait, since you ask it. Your inju- 
ries are greater than mine, and I yield to your 
gentle pleadings. See Antony. Effect what you 
can. If he refuses to listen to 5'^ou, it is only one 
outrage the more. The more he injures me, the 
stronger is my position. Rome will recognize 
that. But, if he rejects your mediation, then it 
is civil war! Try, if you will, however, and, for 
your sake, may the gods be propitious I” 


IS^ 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


With a cry of gratitude Octavia threw herself 
into her brother’s arms. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

OCTAVIA. 

In the gardens of a villa, built upon the prom- 
ontory of Actium, and overlooking the Ambraciot 
Gulf, stood he, upon whom all the eyes of the 
world were bent. Beyond, on the plain, was en- 
camped his army, and below, in the gulf, lay his 
fleet of war. Out in the open sea rode the ships 
of his rival, who had arrived the preceding day, 
and on the opposite side of the gulf gleamed the 
white tents of the Octavian legions. 

But critical as was the situation, with swords 
ready to leap from their scabbards, and with the 
beacon, the lighting of which would be the signal 
for war, prepared, Antony’s thoughts were else- 
where. Ever since sending the message to Cleo- 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


159 


patra, he had watched in a state of feverish excite- 
ment for the coming of the queen. He was 
moody, absent-minded, and silent, with no 
thoughts but for the queen’s arrival, and no inter- 
est in any other plans. He was constantly on 
the look-out for her, and he would frequently 
wander away alone by himself to the shore, and, 
gazing out upon the sea, torture himself with 
speculations as to whether she would come. 

Even the arrival of the fleet and army of Oc- 
tavius, which was of such dire import, roused him 
but little. In vain did Ventidius and the other 
leaders urge him to action, in vain were the signs 
of dissatisfaction among his followers pointed out 
to him ; he refused to make any move or declare 
any decision as to the future, until Cleopatra’s 
coming was no longer in doubt. 

Beneath a clump of trees, at a little distance 
from the moody general, stood Ventidius, Derce- 
tas and Eros. This dotage of Antony’s had driven 
them to their wits’ end. .There was nothing more 
to be done save wait and pray to the gods for some 
miracle to restore to them their leader in all his 
old-time force and brilliancy. 

Suddenly Ventidius started, and, grasping 
Dercetas by the arm, he pointed down the wind- 


160 BABDOV'S GLEOPATRA. 

ing pathway which led from the promontory to 
the seashore below. A woman, young and richly 
dressed, was slowly ascending the path. She was 
alone ; no attendants of any sort accompanied her, 
but close to the shore lay a magnificently decor- 
ated boat, from which she had evidently just 
landed. 

“Do my old eyes deceive me?” exclaimed Ven- 
tidius, excitedly, “or is not that the noble Octavia, 
our general’s wife ?” 

Eros shaded his eyes with his hand from the 
rays of the hot August sun. 

“You are right,” he said, “it is indeed she. She 
is a brave woman to come thus unattended into 
the camp of the enemy.” 

“The camp of the enemy !” repeated Ventidius, 
indignantly. “She would not thank you, Eros, 
for that speech. Enemies we are to Caesar, but 
there is no man here who is an enemy to Octavia. 
The gods be praised that she has come ! Her in- 
fluence may effect what ours has been unable to 
accomplish.” 

And down the path the old soldier hurried to 
meet the approaching figure. 

As Octavia saw the scarred visage of the man 
she knew to be her husband’s friend, and whose 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


161 


rugged virtues and downriglit honesty she herself 
had learned to respect, she smiled, and stretched 
out both her hands to him. 

“Tell me of my lord, good Ventidius,” she said. 
“Is he well?” 

“Ay, madam, well in body, but sick in spirit. 
Ever watching for a sign from Egypt.” 

Octavia shuddered. 

“The rumor is true, then,” she said, her sweet 
lips trembling. “He has sent for Cleopatra.” 

“Only too true, madam.” 

“May Juno aid me, then. I fear my mission is 
in vain. Where is my lord ?” 

“Above, madam, in the garden, his eyes ever 
scanning the east.” 

“Lead me to him.” 

Slowly they approached to where Antony stood, 
with his back leaning against a tree, and his eyes 
fixed upon that point in the distant horizon where 
first Cleopatra’s fleet might be expected to appear. 
He was so absorbed that he did not notice the 
approach of Octavia and Ventidius until the latter 
touched him upon the shoulder. 

“General, I bring you a visitor that should 
drive away your melancholy.” 

Antony turned, and as his eyes fell upon Oc- 


162 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


tavia, wlio stood blushing and trembling before 
him, he uttered a suppressed exclamation, and the 
color forsook his cheeks. He could not avoid a 
certain sense of shame at sight of the gentle, un- 
complaining wife he had so cruelly ill-treated. 

“What ! Octavia here ?” he cried. 

“Yes, Octavia,” said Ventidius, sternly. “Is 
she poison to you, that you look upon her thus ?” 

Octavia raised her eyes pleadingly to his face — 
the face, that, in spite of all, she loved. 

“Have you no welcome for me ?” she asked, in 
a low voice. “Not even such courtesy of greeting 
as a stranger might expect ? Antony ! Husband ! 
Who am I, then, that you should treat me thus ?” 

“Caesar’s sister.” 

“That’s unkind. Had I been no more than 
Caesar’s sister, I should have remained in Rome. 
But I am Octavia, who, though forsaken by you, 
am still your wife. Abandoning all my pride, I 
have come to beg your kindness.” 

As she spoke, she took his hand in hers and 
raised it submissively to her lips. 

In spite of himself, Antony was touched by his 
wife’s unselfishness and magnanimity. 

“What is it you wish ?” he asked. 

“Be reconciled to Caesar.” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


163 


“Never ! What ! shall I, who by a nod can 
make of a slave a king, fall down and blubber : 
‘Forgive me, Caesar !’ No ! Such words would 
choke me.” 

“Nor need you speak them. Think you I have 
come to ask you to abase yourself? No, Antony, 
your honor is mine. It never shall be said Oc- 
tavia’s husband sued to her brother, Caesar 
though he be. Yielding to my prayers, Octavius 
stands with outstretched hand, ready to clasp 
yours in renewed amity, if you but make the sign. 
All that I ask is peace, peace between the two I 
love, my brother and my husband.” 

Antony made an impatient movement, which 
he could not repress. 

“And this peace means a return to Rome, my 
every action spied upon.” 

“No,” said Octavia, bravely forcing back her 
tears ; “you are free, free from her you loathe. I 
am as proud as you, and scorn to beg for your 
love as alms. I will tell my brother you agree to 
peace. We will return to Rome, and you shall 
march to rule the East. No word of complaint 
shall pass my lips. But let me at least keep the 
barren name of wife, although your love is else- 
where.” 


164 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


As she paused Antony gazed at her with a 
softened look. Pity plead strongly in his heart 
for her. His breast was rent with contending 
emotions, his love for Cleopatra and his sense of 
what was due to his wdfe, his friends, and his 
country. 

“Listen to justice,” said Ventidius. “Be once 
more the Antony you were, general, triumvir, 
emperor !” 

Emperor ! At this word Antony’s eyes flashed. 
All his old ambition was aroused. Why not ? Was 
not the imperial crown within his grasp ? He had 
but to reach out his hand to take it. For the mo- 
ment, Cleopatra’s image, which had been so con- 
stantly before him, faded away, and in its place 
he saw a vision of himself, clad in imperial pur- 
ple, a scepter in his hand, the world at his feet. 

Octavia moved closer to his side and laid her 
hand upon his arm. 

“If I can offer pardon,” she said, softly, “can 
not you afford to take it ?” 

The extraordinary magnanimity exhibited by 
Octavia moved Antony deeply, and his better na- 
ture momentarily asserted itself. He took the 
hand, which rested upon his arm, and raised it to 
his lips. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


165 


“It is for me,” lie said, “to implore that pardon. 
Gentle Octavia, yours is the triumph. Go, as an 
envoy of peace, from me to Octavius, and bring 
back to me a decisive answer.” 

Octavia’s soft blue eyes shone with a happy 
light. 

“And the war-beacon will not be lighted ?” 

“I will make no move until your return. I 
have been but a poor mate for you, Octavia, but 
hereafter all shall be atoned for. If the answer 
you bring is a favorable one, from to-morrow 
Csesar and I are one.” 

He embraced Octavia tenderly, and watched her 
until she had descended below the brow of the 
declivity ; then, ordering Ventidius and the other 
two, who had been curiously watching the inter- 
view at a little distance, to follow him, he strode 
rapidly toward the house, without one further 
glance at the sea he had been eagerly scanning 
for so many days. 

Why was it that Ventidius’ countenance showed 
but little of the delight that should naturally have 
appeared there at the success of Octavia’s mission ? 
Although the sky above was sunny, there was a 
little cloud upon the horizon that presaged a 
Storm ; for upon that horizon the still, keen eyes 


166 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


of the old soldier had detected a series of little 
black spots that were, in all probability, a fleet of 
vessels. Could it be Cleopatra, with her war- 
ships ? If so, the resolution of the general would 
be but short-lived. In a struggle between the 
simple Roman matron and the wily Egyptian 
queen, what hope would there be for the former ? 
If Cleopatra appeared upon the scene, all was lost. 
With a prayer that the evil might be averted, 
Ventidius followed in the footsteps of his master. 

In the meanwhile, with a light heart, Octavia 
was hurrying down the path to the seashore. As 
she reached the foot of the promontory she saw 
coming toward her a tall, dark, heavily bearded 
man, accompanied by two women, dressed in 
white robes of Grecian fashion. One, the taller, 
who moved with a grace that attracted at once 
Octavia’s attention, was heavily vailed, and only 
the outline of her features could be seen through 
the thick covering. The other, however, had 
thrown back her vail, and revealed a delicate face, 
with blue eyes and golden hair. The man car- 
ried, thrown across his shoulder, a heavy rug. 
The trio had evidently just landed from a small 
boat, which two oarsmen were slowly pulling 
away from the shore. 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


167 


Involuntarily, moved by some strange impulse 
of curiosity, Octavia paused and waited their ap- 
proach. 

Suddenly the man caught sight of her, and 
stopping, turned and addressed a few words to his 
companions. Then the three moved on again. 

As they came abreast of her, Octavia, for some 
reason which she could not explain, addressed 
them : 

“Whither are you bound ?” she said. 

The girl, whose face was uncovered, looked at 
her in some, surprise. 

“To the village,” she answered. 

“But,” said Octavia, “you will have to pass 
through the camp and ” 

But she was interrupted by the dark-faced man, 
who said, with a scowl : 

“That is my affair. Who are you, to presume 
to interfere ?” 

Octavia drew herself up with dignity. 

“I!” she answered, quietly. “I am Octavia, 
Mark Antony’s wife.” 

At these words the taller of the two women, the 
one who was vailed, uttered a sharp cry, tottered, 
and caught for support at the arm of the man, 
whose manner had suddenly undergone a great 


168 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


change. He seemed perplexed and alarmed. The 
other woman hastened to the side of the first, and 
threw her arm about her. 

“What is the matter?” asked Octavia. “Is she 
ill?” 

“Yes,” said the blue-eyed girl, hurriedly. “She 
is a young slave, who has just arrived from 
Athens. The voyage has been a severe one, 
and ” 

“Poor thing !” said Octavia, kindly, approach- 
ing nearer. “Perhaps I may be of some service. 
What is your name ?” 

Thus addressed, the woman shrank closer to 
the man, and pulled her vail still more tightly 
about her face. At the same time the other 
- stepped in between, as if to shield her. 

“She is ill and suffering,” she said. “Far from 
her family, for the first time, all is strange and 
terrifying to her.” 

In spite of herself, Octavia felt a strong interest 
in the stranger, whose face she could not see. 

“Come to me to-night,” she said, “at the villa 
above on the promontory. If liberty would restore 
her health, I would purchase her and set her 
free.” 

Then, with one long glance at the shrouded 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


169 


fonn, slie turned and moved down the beach to 
where her boat lay moored. 

After she had entered it, and the boat, propelled 
by its sturdy oarsmen, was moving slowly toward 
the open sea where lay Octavius’ fleet, the fair- 
haired girl touched the other lightly and rever- 
ently upon the arm. 

“Beloved mistress,” she said, “be reassured. 
She has gone.” 

As if the gentle touch had been the sting of an 
adder, the other started violently, and with a 
quick motion flung back her vail, revealing, as 
she did so, the face of the most beautiful woman 
in the world, Octavia’s dreaded rival — but a 
a face that was now pale as death and convulsed 
with violent emotion. 

With a strained, far-away look in her lovely 
dark eyes, she watched the receding boat, her 
breath coming quick and fast with the feelings of 
anger and shame that filled her breast. 

“What !” she thought. “It is true, then ? I — 
I, the daughter of kings, have blushed — ^blushed 
for the first time ! A word from that woman’s lips 
has overwhelmed me. She questioned me, and I 
did not dare to answer her, nor even to cast one 
look upon her face. I was afraid of my voice. 


170 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


afraid of my eyes. Strange caprice! incredible 
mystery 1 that I, wbo longed so to see ber — who, 
forgetting my rank, would have gone to Rome to 
insult her, who hate her as my rival — I — I could 
do nothing! Did I recognize in her that far- 
famed Roman virtue? Yes, Brutus, you were 
right. Virtue is not a vain name — a lie ! No, it 
is an authority, an immense force, a precious gift, 
a divine treasure ! Ah, would that I knew it ! 
would that I felt it ! Oh, African sun, god of day, 
god of fire, you make a jest of all efforts toward 
purity, and, pitilessly laughing at our vain reso- 
lutions, inject your ardor into the blood of our 
veins. Curses upon you for having been the cause 
of what I have suffered ! You have soiled my 
heart, blackened my life ! Be accursed ! If your 
fatal light could one day disappear and fail the 
terrified world, I would like to be present at your 
final setting and see sink for the last time your 
meteor of blood; and then alone, far from the 
noisy world, breathe in the freshness of eternal 
night. My shame and my weakness are due to 
your fires. Had it not been for you my life would 
have been different. No derisive epithets would 
have been flung at me by ribald tongues ; beneath 
my crown my forehead would have gleamed un- 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


171 


smirched ; there would have been no spot upon 
my royal mantle ; I shonld have gone on my way 
followed by the respect of all ; I could have borne 
unflinchingly the gaze of Octavia. Well, can I 
not still, by the force of my intellect, drive out the 
impetuous fever from my blood, be so virtuous as 
to vie with the Roman, and conquer Antony anew ? 
Let Antony repudiate Octavia, and let me, a 
queen, establish among kings the sovereign power 
of virtue.” 

Lost in these reflections, her eyes still fixed 
npon the hark which was bearing away Octavia, 
and which was now scarcely more than a mere 
speck, Cleopatra had become entirely oblivious to 
her surroundings. She was roused to a sense of 
reality by the voice of Iras, saying, timidly : 

“Cleopatra ! Royal mistress !” 

She started, and passed her hand over her eyes, 
as if awaking from a dream. And so it was a 
dream — a dream of purity of life and of virtuous 
greatness which had never visited Egypt’s Queen 
before, and which would never visit her again. 
Octavia, speed as quickly as you will upon your 
errand. It is all in vain. Your gentleness and 
goodness are no match for the brilliancy and fas- 
cination of the wondrous serpent of old Nile. 


172 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


With a quick gesture, as if to shut out forever 
the vision that had been for an instant before her 
eyes, Cleopatra turned her back to the sea, and 
looked upward to the promontory where Antony 
was, with a smile of conscious power upon her 
perfect lips. 

“Go on, Kephren!” she said, in a voice of ring- 
ing command. 

Slowly they ascended the winding path, nntil 
they came to a thick grove of ilex trees, into which 
they vanished. 

A quarter of an hour afterward Kephren 
emerged alone, still carrying in his arms the rug, 
but which now seemed much more bulkish and 
heavier. He completed the ascent and crossed the 
garden. At the door of the villa he was stopped 
by a guard, who demanded his business. 

“A rug for the room of the general.” 

After some parleying he was allowed to enter, 
and was conducted by a slave to Antony’s private 
apartment, a room with large windows opening to 
the ground and looking out upon the gardens and 
the sea below. 

Here he deposited his burden upon the floor, at 
the foot of the bed, and followed the slave from 
the room, 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


173 


For a moment or two all was silence, and then 
a tearing, cutting sound was heard, the gleam of 
a dagger was visible slashing through the sides 
of the rug, and from its folds emerged Cleopatra, 

As once, years before, she had been borne into 
the presence of Caesar, so. now, in the same man- 
ner, had she eluded the guards and gained en- 
trance to Antony. 

Flushed and rosy, she stood for a moment 
breathless from her confinement, and then, step- 
ping out from the heavy rug which lay about her 
feet, she advanced curiously to the door. There 
she listened for a moment, and then looked round 
for a place to hide, in case she should be sur- 
prised by any other than Antony. 

In one corner was a low bed, draped with heavy 
silken curtains. She unloosened the curtains, and 
stood there silently waiting, her exquisite figure, 
in its white robes, outlined against the dark back- 
ground of the draperies. The struggle was close 
at hand, but she had no fear of the result ; and 
her lip curled with a sort of self-contempt as she 
remembered the feelings with which she had 
watched the boat and its occupant, the Roman 
matron, that paragon of all the virtues, Octavia ! 


174 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER. 

In a large room on the ground floor of the 
villa, which ordinarily was used as the banquet 
hall, were gathered together Antony and the cap- 
tains of his legions, Ventidius, Dercetas, Philo, 
Canidius and Scarus. Their beloved general was 
once more restored to them, and, save for the dark 
forebodings in the breast of old Ventidius, joy was 
in the hearts of all. Ready, as they would have 
been, to follow Antony to the battle-field and fight 
to the death for him, they were all glad that civil 
war was to be averted, and that the reproaches 
that had been leveled in Rome at their leader for 
his mad infatuation were now to be silenced. 

Their joy, however, was destined to be but of 
short duration, for their deliberations were inter- 
rupted by the hurried entrance of Eros, his beard- 
less face flushed with excitement. 

Before Ventidius, whose fears foretold him what 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


175 


was about to bappen, could prevent bim, be rusbed 
up to bim, and exclaimed : 

“Tbe Egyptian fleet is bere ! They approach 
on tbe other side of the promontory from where 
Caesar’s ships are at anchor.” 

In an instant all was confusion. For a moment 
Antony stood irresolute, and then, without a^ord, 
be turned and rusbed from the room. 

Ventidius uttered a savage oath. 

“Fool!” be said to Eros. “What have you 
done ? Curses upon that black-browed queen I 
Another hour and all would have been well !” 

But tbe others did not wait to listen to his 
lamentations. Eager to see for themselves if the 
news were true and what would be the outcome of 
it, they hurried after Antony, and Ventidius was 
left alone. 

“It is not too late, yet I” he exclaimed, striking 
his hands angrily together. “It shall not be too 
late I If there is one spark of manliness left in 
him, I will save him in spite of all. Diomedes I 
Diomedes shall speak I” 

Meanwhile, swift as the wings of love, Antony 
had sped to his bedroom, from the window of 
which a view of the sea could be obtained. 

Yes, it was true. With their white sails out- 


176 


SARDOV'H CLEOPATRA. 


Spread to the gentle evening breeze, were slowly 
approaching an immense fleet of Egyptian ships 
of war. Cleopatra had granted the request in his 
message. She sent him aid. But, was the queen 
herself on board? In that thought all else 
was forgotten. Once more he was mad with long- 
ing. Caesar, Octavia, peace, ambition, all mat- 
tered but little. His one desire was to look once 
more upon that fair face that held him in 
thralldom. Little did he reckon how close to him 
was the object of his longing ; that, through an 
opening in the silken curtains just behind him, 
was bent upon him the passionate gaze of her, for 
whom he was ready to sacriflce all. 

Into the room hurried Dercetas and the others. 

“See,” cried Antony, to them. “It is true ! She 
is here ! Here at last !” 

But his comrades did not share his enthusiasm. 
After one quick glance through the broad win- 
dows, they gazed at one another with looks of 
fear and consternation. The arrival of the Egyp- 
tian fleet would mean destruction to all their 
hopes of peace. 

“She is here ! She is here !” continued Antony, 
beside himself with excitement. “The wonder of 
the world ! Cleopatra ! My Cleopatra !” 


SA IW 0 U’lS OLKOPA TP A. 


177 


“Your Cleopatra !” repeated a deep voice, scorn- 
fully. “Yes, your Cleopatra, perhaps, but not yours 
alone !” 

At these bold words, Antony turned from the 
window with a quick movement. Beside him 
stood Ventidius, his scarred face stem and lower- 
ing; and, just behind the old soldier, was a tall, 
thin man, with dark complexion, and narrow, 
slanting eyes. 

“Your Cleopatra, indeed!” continued Ventid- 
ius, in the same contemptuous voice. “Any 
man’s Cleopatra! All men’s Cleopatra!” 

“What mean you?” thundered Antony, his 
features convulsed with rage, and menacingly 
raising his clenched hand. 

But not one atom did the brave old soldier 
flinch. He was there to recall his master to rea- 
son, by all means in his power, and do his duty 
he would, even though it might cost him his 
life. 

Wonderingly and breathlessly the others lis- 
tened. Diomedes, who on his flight from Mem- 
phis, had sought Ventidius and put himself under 
his protection, shrank behind the broad-shoul- 
dered form of his patron. Frank and honest, old 
Ventidius had no liking for or trust in the cun- 


178 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


ning, slippery Egyptian, but, after listening to 
his story, he had concluded to keep him by him, 
thinking that some day he might be of use to 
him. And the time had now come when he was 
determined that he should speak. The weapon 
was an unworthy one, but the case was desperate, 
and all means were fair. 

“Strike, if you will,” he said, calmly. “But 
my long services to you deserve a better recom- 
pense than blows.” 

Antony’s arm dropped, although his brow was 
still dark with anger. 

“I implore you, my lord, to listen,” said Ven- 
tidius. “In honor’s name I ask, for manhood’s 
sake, and for your own safety, give heed unto my 
words.” 

Antony folded his arms. 

“Speak, then !” he said. “I will have patience.” 

“What is this woman for whose coming you 
now watch, whom, perchance, one of those very 
vessels is now bearing to you ? Who is she that, 
for her sake, you would abandon all dictates of 
honor ? Rarely beautiful, I grant you. But do 
not Octavia’s virtues outweigh her beauty ? Why 
forsake your wife and wreck your fortunes for — 
a wanton ?” 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


179 


The vains in Antony’s forehead stood out like 
whipcords, and his eyes flashed with rage. 

“Now, by Hercules ” 

“Nay, hear me out, and, if I do not prove my 
words, deal with me as you will.” 

“Goon!” 

“What has this woman been ? What is her 
past ? You are not her only lover. There has 
been Csesar, Pompey, Sextus, Herod — ^why, their 
name is myriads. She is capable of consigning 
lovers, from her fatal arms, to sudden and igno- 
minious death. Csesar quitted the enchantress, 
a myrtle-wreathed victim, decked out for republi- 
can vengeance. But the great have not been alone 
the victims of her wiles. She has given herself 
to the embraces of a slave.” 

“Knave, ’tis false 1” 

“Speak, Diomedes, and, my lord, for your own 
honor, be calm.” 

Trembling with terror, Diomedes advanced. 
Although his vengeance was now in his hands, 
the white-livered wretch scarce dared to speak the 
words that would give it to him. 

“My noble lord ” he began. 

“Oh, ’tis you,” interrupted Antony. “I recog- 
nize you well. So, since it is this old man’s will. 


180 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


a man whose services I cannot forget, that I 
should hear you, say your say. But no fine-set 
speeches ; plain, homespun truth is what I want. 
Justify this injured queen, your queen, if you can. 
But, beware of calumny, or your wretched life 
shall pay the penalty !” 

“My lord, I grieve to say that noble Ventidius 
has spoken the truth.” 

And then, fearfully, he proceeded to tell the 
story of Pharon in all its details. Antony lis- 
tened, with great difficulty controlling himself. 
As Diomedes finished, Ventidius asked: 

“Are you satisfied, my lord ?” 

“Satisfied!” cried Antony. “Satisfied! Ten 
thousand times, no ! And even if all this traitor 
says be true, what matters it ? It was before I 
knew her. Before Tarsus, her life was her own 
to do with as she chose. Since, then, alone, have 
I claims upon her constancy.” 

“And if, since then, I prove her false ?” 

“Beware, Ventidius, my patience is well-nigh 
exhausted, and I may forget even your gray 
hairs.” 

“It is the duty that I owe to you, my lord, that 
bids me speak, and even your anger cannot stay 
me. Diomedes, speak further of what you know. 


SABDOU'S CLEOFATBA. 


181 


Fear not. The general has given you leave to 
speak.” 

“Alas, my lord,” faltered Diomedes, “that I 
should have to say it. On your departure your 
place was usurped by another.” 

“Liar !” roared Antony, now livid with rage ; 
“his name, slave, his name !” 

But Diomedes was now so alarmed that his lips 
could scarcely frame the word : “Kephren,” but 
low as it was uttered, Antony caught it. 

“Kephren!” he exclaimed. “Kephren!” 

Diomedes started back before the fury he had 
roused ; but Ventidius was nothing daunted. He 
had heard the story before from the Egyptian’s 
lips, and, false though it was, had been deceived 
by it. So he thoroughly believed that he was 
speaking the truth, when he said : 

“Yes, my lord, Kephren, the captain of the 
guard, whose passion for the queen has long been 
no secret, is now the favored one. A slave, a 
lackey, now governs Egypt.” 

Once more, in mad fury, was Antony’s hand 
raised to strike, but, as he met Ventidius eyes, it 
dropped again. Even in his anger, he could not 
find it in his heart to offer a blow to his old and 


182 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


tried friend. With a mighty effort, he forced 
himself into a semblance of control. 

Pointing to the window, he said : 

“There lies the fleet of Egypt’s queen. She 
alone shall answer these evil tales. Go. Bring 
her here ! Go quickly, and, as you value your 
lives, dare not return and tell me that she has 
not come.” 

But, before one of them could move a step in 
obedience to the command, these words, in a clear, 
melodious voice, fell upon their startled ears : 

“That, they cannot do, for it would be a lie !” 

The curtains parted, and before them appeared 
the queen herself, her superb eyes flashing with 
a bluish glitter, and her radiant beauty kindled 
into flame with anger and indignation. 

Involuntarily the Roman captains started back, 
while Diomedes, pale as ashes, fell prostrate on 
his face before her. 

Antony uttered a great cry : “Cleopatra !” and 
then stood as if turned to stone, his eyes fixed 
upon the exquisite vision before him. 

With a glance withering in its scorn, Cleopatra 
turned to Antony’s companions. 

“Go !” 

Without a word, the soldiers filed out of the 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


183 


room, even Ventidius venturing no remonstrance, 
perhaps, because he understood that all words 
from him would now be worse than vain. 

Diomedes made a movement to rise, but, with 
the spring of a panther, Cleopatra was at his side 
and set her foot savagely upon his neck. 

“No! You remain!” she hissed. 

Then, spurning him from her, she advanced 
slowly to where Antony still stood, silent and 
motionless. 

“I am here,” she said, in her sweet, musical 
voice, each accent of which made Antony’s heart 
throb with love and longing. “I am here to 
answer the charges that have been brought 
against me.” 

Antony replied never a word. He seemed 
frozen into silence. His eyes remained riveted 
upon her. In her simple Grecian robe, which 
fell about her in soft, creamy folds, with no orna- 
ment save the diamond buckle that confined her 
hair, her beauty seemed more wondrous than 
ever. 

“You have heard it said,” she proceeded, sor- 
rowfully and tenderly, “that Cmsar first possessed 
my love. Not so ! Caesar loved me, but I loved 
Antony. Ah ! How often have I wished some 


184 


SABDOU’S CIEOPATBA. 


other, great as Csesar, would court my love to he 
refused jbr Antony ! And yet, sighing kings 
have laid their scepters at my feet, dare I say not 
wholly for my crown ? But to be refused for 
you. To he less than wife to you, I have dis- 
dained their lawful suit. The slanderous tongues, 
whose utterance we have just heard, have accused 

me of Ah ! I will not, cannot repeat it. To 

some, my lord, I plead guilty. I am no cold, 
Roman woman. The fires of the Orient burn 
hotly in my veins. To their accusations, you 
answered : ‘Before Tarsus, her life was her own 
to do with as she chose.’ There spoke my gen- 
erous lord. Thanks, thanks, noble Antony, for 
those words. But since first . my happy eyes 
gazed on yonr dear face, thongh a thousand 
rumors shriek their lies into the gaping world, 
not once, I swear it by Isis and Osiris, not once 
have I been faithless in thought, word or deed, to 
the man who has been, is, and ever will be, the 
god of my idolatry !” 

As if suffocated by her emotion, she paused, 
her lovely eyes suffused, her bosom heaving 
beneath the folds of her tunic. Could this be 
royal Egypt, this panting, trembling woman, 
changing color with every throb of her heart ? 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


185 


“But — but,” said Antony, in a hollow whisper. 
“Kephren?” ^ 

Instantly the queen’s face changed. She threw 
back her head, with a contemptuous curl of the 
lip. 

“Kephren,” she called, in a ringing voice of 
command. 

In obedience to her call, the door of the inner 
chamber, where the captain of the guard had con- 
cealed himself after bearing his mistress to 
Antony’s chamber, opened, and the man sum- 
moned appeared. 

Advancing to the queen, he bowed low before 
her. 

She turned again to Antony. 

“Your friend,” she said, “who repeated this 
slander, lied. This man, whom he pretended I 
loved, is merely a devoted slave, and nothing 
more.” 

“Prove it !” said Antony, huskily. 

“How ?” 

“By killing him this instant before my eyes.” 

Cleopatra turned a shade paler. She knew 
Kephren’s unswerving devotion, and valued it. 

“Be it so,” she said, briefly. 

She approaohed a table on which was a silver 


186 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


goblet and an ampbora of water. Filling the gob- 
let half full, she drew from her finger a ring 
carved with a head of Rameses the Great, pressed 
a spring and let two drops of a heavy, greenish 
liquid fall from it into the water. Then she took 
the cup in her hands, and, without a tremor, 
handed it to the unfortunate captain of the 
guard. 

“When the Great Queen commands, it is for 
her servants to obey,” said Kephren, calmly, and 
raised the goblet to his lips. 

But, before he could drain the draught, Antony 
sprang forward and snatched it from him. 

“Enough !” he cried, rapturously. “Enough ! 
I am convinced! It is enough to justify you 
both 1” 

Raising his hand he was about to cast the gob- 
let through the open window, but Cleopatra, with 
a sudden movement, seized his arm and prevented 
him. 

“No !” she cried. “It still has its work to do, 
and this time it will be offered to the guilty and 
not to the innocent.” 

She seized the cup, and flashed a fierce look 
upon the still prostrate form of the man who had 
sougnt to do ner injury. 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


187 


“Rise, miserable wretcb!” sbe commanded. 
“Rise, I say.” 

Slowly and witb difficulty, Diomedes obeyed. 
His face was livid, and bis shaking limbs could 
scarcely support bim. He knew that bis bour 
bad come. 

“Drink!” 

His lips moved as if in appeal, but no sound 
issued from them. 

“Drink 1” 

Mechanically he took the cup and, so terrified 
as to be half bereft of his senses, scarce knowing 
what he was doing, he swallowed the potion. 

Then, with a wild shriek, he fell headlong to 
the ground, where he lay writhing in agony, his 
eyes bulging from his head and a white foam 
issuing from his mouth. Suddenly, his limbs 
stiffened, and, after one last horrible convulsion, 
he lay dead at the feet of Cleopatra, who was 
watching his agony with a hard, cruel look about 
her lips. 

“Kephren, drag that carrion away !” she said. 
“And so perish all the enemies of Cleopatra.” ' 

Then, as Kephren disappeared with the unfor- 
tunate wretch, her face underwent a wondrous 


188 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


change ; and she turned to Antony with a soft, 
alluring smile, a sweet, bewdldering glance. 

“Are you satisfied?” she said. “Am I for- 
given ?” 

“Forgiven !” he cried. “It is I who am the cul- 
prit, not you ! I have but one desire, to live and 
die at the queen’s feet.” 

Her lithe, shapely figure swayed toward him. 

“Not at her feet, but close to her heart.” 

The perfume of her breath intoxicated him ; 
the lovelight in her eyes stirred the blood in his 
veins to fever. He flung his arms about her and 
crushed her to his breast with an ardor that was 
almost savage in its intensity, and his lips met 
hers in one long, fierce, passionate kiss. 

Once more she lay, in her matchless beauty, 
within his embrace, and to keep her there he was 
ready to sacrifice the whole earth. 

Oh ! boat, carrying the gentle woman with the 
message of peace hidden in the folds of her robe, 
your speed is of no avail. You will arrive too 
late. Cleopatra has reconquered her lover. 

“My adored queen!” said Antony, releasing 
her a little, in order to feast his eyes upon her 
loveliness. “Ye gods ! how pale she is I” 

“I have been so long separated from you,” she 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


189 


murmured. “I have suffered so mucli. My 
courage is at an end. Oh! let us never part 
again I” 

“I will follow you everywhere.” 

She looked up at him with something that was 
almost shyness. 

“But you are no longer free ?” 

“Your love delivers me from all ties.” 

“You see now that without you I cannot live.” 

“Ah I what dangers you must have braved to 
come and join me here — the long voyage, Caesar 
and the Romans, the pirates who swarm every- 
where in these seas. How could I not love you 
after such heroic devotion.” 

“Antony, my dear lord I” 

“Yours is all my love, yours is all my life!” 

She wound her white arms about his neck and 
laid her head upon his shoulder, thinking, with 
swelling heart : 

“Oh, fool that I was to envy Octavia !” 

A confused sound of voices and the trampling 
of feet were heard outside. lu another moment, 
the door was flung open and Ventidius and Der- 
cetas, followed by a score of soldiers, hurriedly 
entered the room. 


190 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“What means this intrusion ?” exclaimed 
Antony, angrily. 

“General, Octavia has landed, bringing hum- 
ble terms of peace.” 

Cleopatra paled and moved closer to Antony. 
What would be his response. It was quick to 
come. 

“There is no Octavia ! Now, we will light the 
fire that is to be the symbol of discord between 
Caesar and me ! Blessed be war, my queen, 
which, separating us from the rest of the world, 
unites us once again !” 

“Let me be the one to apply the torch !” cried 
Cleopatra. 

And out into the shadowy garden she flew, fol- 
lowed by Antony and the rest, to where the fagots 
had been prepared. In another instant, a multi- 
tude of sparks flashed out from the dry twigs, 
and then a pillar of fire shot up and swayed 
between earth and heaven. War was declared ! 

A mighty shout rent the air, as the soldiers 
came running from all sides. 

“To-morrow the battle,” shouted Antony, “and, 
in a month, at Rome I To Rome, my friends I 
On to Rome !” 

Octavia, who had nearly reached the summit 


HARD OU’S CLEOPA PR A. 


191 


of the promontory, saw the lurid light of the bea- 
con flash out against the sky. It was as if an 
arrow had pierced her heart, and she stopped 
short. 

“Madam,” said jnst above her a voice, which 
she recognized as that of Ventidins. “Madam, 
yon come too late ! The qneen is here!” 

The poor woman covered her face with her 
hands. 

“Alas I” she sobbed, “I am forced to succnmb. 
It is vain for me to seek resignation. I would 
give all, rank, fortune, good name, for the shame- 
ful happiness of a loved mistress.” 

And above in the garden, close to her lover, 
stood Cleopatra, erect, palpitating with excite- 
ment, her dark hair unloosened and her eyes 
glistening like stars, while the glancing flames 
of the direful beacon stained with blood-red spots 
her white drapery. 

“Ah!” she mnrmured low to herself. “He 
shall never return to Rome ! Rome means 
Octavia !” 


102 


SABDOV'IS OLEOPATRA. 



CHAPTER XV. 

AFTER ACTIUM. 

The battle had ended in defeat, the defeat in 
roiit. 

Both Antony and Octavius had powerful fleets 
at sea and great armies on land, but Antony was 
strongest in land troops. In the deliberations 
that followed the lighting of the war-beacon, Ven- 
tidius and all the other officers sought, by all 
arguments in their power, to induce the general 
not to trust himself to the sea. But Cleopatra, who 
was present at the council, opposed them, and the 
infatuated Antony turned a deaf ear to his com- 
panions’ words and declared that the queen should 
have her way. 

“Besides,” she said, “if you fight by land I can- 
not be there to see ; but at sea, from the Antoniad, 
I can witness your triumph.” 

“I implore you, queen,” said Ventidius, “not to 
think of that. To have you there would be fatal.” 


SAlWOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


193 


“Fatal !” cried Cleopatra. “Why fatal ? Why 
should I be deprived of all participation in the 
glory of the war, when my ships and forces are 
engaged in it ? Besides, the Egyptians would be 
disheartened were I to leave them, and would he 
much less efi&cient if their queen were not present 
to urge them on. I am not a woman to be an 
embarrassment and a source of care, but a sov- 
ereign, accustomed to the command oi armies.” 

Antony was only too ready to be persuaded, and 
it was decided that the queen should be placed in 
command of her own fleet. 

In the morning all was in readiness. Cleopatra, 
with her ships, took a station in reserve, and re- 
mained there for a time, a quiet witness of the 
battle. It was an obstinate and bloody conflict. 
The great ships dashed against each other, and 
the men, inspired by their leaders, fought from 
deck to deck. The two fleets were very nearly 
equal, and the issue was in doubt. But at the 
critical moment of the battle Cleopatra ordered the 
sails of the Antoniad to be hoisted, and, followed 
by all her ships, fled from the scene. 

As soon as Antony perceived that she was 
going, even in the very heat of the struggle, for- 
getful of all save that one fact, he called up a 


194 


SARDOU’S CLKOPATBA. 


galley and, leaping on board, ordered the oarsmen 
to pull after the queen’s flying trireme. 

This decided the fight. Seeing that they were 
deserted by their leader, Antony’s men soon gave 
up the struggle, and the day was lost. 

Cleopatra sailed to Alexandria, and, horrified at 
what she had done, shut herself up in the palace 
of the Ptolemies. 

To Alexandria, also, proceeded Antony, and en- 
camped in a barren plain a short distance from 
the city, with twelve legions, all that remained of 
his once glorious army. For the direful news 
had been brought to him that Canidius, who had 
been in command of the land troops, had, after 
waiting in vain for Antony’s return, surrendered 
his entire force to Octavius. Never was defeat 
more complete nor more shameful. There was not 
the slightest excuse for it. The land forces, in 
which lay Antony’s greatest strength, had been 
conquered without striking a blow, and even to 
his fleet but comparatively little harm had been 
done. 

Now that he realized the full effects of his folly, 
of the infamy of which he had been guilty, An- 
tony was beside himself with rage and shame. 
Although he had abandoned all to fly in Cleopa- 


SARDOU’2 CLEOPATRA. 


195 


tra’s wake, lie kad made no attempt to see the 
queen ; he did not wish to see her. His remorse 
rendered him furious against her, who had been 
the cause of his misfortunes. All his love was 
turned to hate, and to a wild desire for revenge. 

Gloomy and sad lay the wretched camp of the 
once powerful triumvir in the shadowy darkness 
of the Eastern night. Behind rose, in black 
silhouette, the temples and palaces of imperial 
Alexandria. Before, calm as a mirror, stretched 
the placid waters of Lake Mareotis. Away to one 
side, a dozen vultures flapped their great wings in 
ever narrowing circles, making ready to pounce 
upon their prey — some dead king of the desert, 
perhaps. 

Upon the sandy beach, alone and harrowed by 
torturing thoughts, Antony, haggard, unkempt, 
unshorn, paced nervously to and fro. One word 
was ringing ever in his ears, one word was strik- 
ing ever upon his heart — Actium I 

Oh, if the implacaple Fates would but turn back 
the sands of time, and give him once more that 
hour when, like a demigod, he stood on the deck 
of his vessel defying the onslaught of Csesar’s 


196 SAIWOU’S CLllOPATRA. 

fleet, tliat liour before he had fled, leaving his 
astounded enemy the master of the seas. Would 
that horrible moment never be effaced? Was 
there no possible way to recapture the past ? He 
would give his life and his thirty years of glory 
to tear the record of that day from the pages of 
history. Fame had been his most cherished 
dream, the fame that would live beyond the tomb ; 
to be an immortal example for future ages, to 
have in his country a column of victory or a tem- 
ple dedicated to him to reach an unknown sum- 
mit on the ladder of glory. In his misery, he 
remembered how his mother, when he was a child, 
had related to him the triumphant exploits of 
Hercules, and how his bosom had swelled with 
pride, hope, and envy, as she said to him : 

“Such was your ancestor, and you will equal 
him !” 

Who would then have said that that mother 
had given birth to a coward, and that son, the 
object of so much tender care, was destined one 
day to fly before the enemy ? Antony’s fall had 
made Caesar great. Caesar, a warrior who knew 
not how to wield his sword, nor to rally with his 
voice a wavering phalanx. At Philippi he said 
that he was ill ; he was afraid. And it was such 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


197 


an adversary the gods had permitted to vanquish 
the greatest general of Rome ! 

In his anguish, he cried aloud, in the silence and 
the night : 

“How my enemies will rejoice in my fall ! And 
you, phantom — you, the most cruel of them all — 
Cicero, Cicero ! How happy you must be, if you 
can hear my groans from the depths of the abyss 
into which I have been plunged ! I have made 
truths of your blackest lies. Upon your writings 
I have placed the divine seal. You were only an 
orator ; I have made of you an inspired prophet. 
But what do I say ? Never did your severest 
thoughts go so far as to foresee this shameful 
flight. You accused me of pride, ambitious plans, 
infamous cruelties, audacious thefts, crimes which 
sullied the majesty of Rome. Flatterer! I have 
surpassed the dreams of your hatred. Come, then, 
and thank Antony, yon who were his accuser ; he 
has saved you from being branded by posterity as 
an impostor I” 

He ceased his muttering and continued his 
restless pacing back and forth upon the sands. 
Soon his thoughts took another turn. What 
mattered the hatred and rejoicings of his enemies ? 
What should alone occupy his mind and weigh 


198 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


him down with remorse were his friends, his com- 
panions-at-arms, whose valor he had scorned, 
whose faith he had betrayed. While they were 
dying for him, he, their unworthy chief, had 
quitted them, without a word, without a sign, 
without recompensing them with even a last fare- 
well. They called him their father, their em- 
peror, while he ! Oh, curses on the fatal siren 

that had lured him to his ruin ! 

And the strong man stopped and buried his 
face in his hands, convulsed with an agony for 
which there was no remedy. 

Suddenly he raised his head, and, flinging out 
his arms, cried aloud : 

“And what has become of you, my rebellious 
old soldier, who predicted all this ? Ventidius ! 
Ventidius !” 

As if in answer to his call, there was a rush 
across the sand of hurrying steps, and in another 
moment the man he had invoked was by his side. 
The old veteran had come to join his fortunes to 
those of his master, to whom he was as loyal in 
the days of his ruin as he had ever been in the 
days of his prosperity. 

As he looked upon Anton^^’s woni, pallid face. 


SAIWOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


199 


a great lump rose in liis throat and choked his 
utterance. 

“Ventidius !” exclaimed Antony, seizing both 
his hands. “Now, praised be the gods, who have 
answered my prayer ! Whence do you come, old 
friend, and — and what news do you bring ?” 

“The worst, most noble Antony. Canidius ” 

“Well, what of him ?” 

“Weary of waiting, he has surrendered to 
Octavius.” 

“ ’Tis my just deserts. Oh, Ventidius, where 
can I hide myself? My shame is devouring me. 
Yet, I am happy to see you again. Actium ! 
Actium !” 

“General,” said Ventidius, deeply moved, “that 
was a day of misfortune. To-morrow you v/ill 
conquer, if — you are no longer a slave to love. 
The gods sent women upon earth to arrest the 
impulse of souls too valiant, to prevent those of 
vast genius becoming too powerful, and to equalize 
men. They do their duty ; women have wings, 
and men leave their honor to run after 1 hem. So 
henceforth do as your soldiers do. We ivill take 
no more women to battle.” 

Antony made no reply. What reply could he 


200 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


have made ? Ah, had he hut always followed the 
advice of this sage counsellor ! 

“My friend,” he said, at last, “how did you find 
me?” 

Ventidius pointed to the sleeping city. 

“Yonder,” he said, “is Alexandria, and ” 

“No more !” interrupted Antony, half fiercely. 
“I understand. But why did you come to me ? 
Cassar would have given you ” 

“I do not love Caesar. Below in Greece, we 
awaited your arrival ; but, as you did not come, 
day by day our ranks grew less, and finally Can- 
idius, the ingrate, left during the night and sought 
Octavius. Then I said to myself : ‘I am no longer 
a soldier, so I can travel. My wound is not dan- 
gerous. I will go and visit the port of Alexan- 
dria.’ ” 

These words touched Antony deeply. There 
were some loyal hearts still left to him. The salt 
tears stung in his eyes. 

“I do not deserve such devotion,” he said, with 
a sorrowful humility. Then, suddenly, he turned, 
and in the dim light scrutinized his companion. 
One arm hung helpless in a sling. 

“Wounded !” cried Antony. “Wounded in that 
combat, whence I fled like a coward. Ah !” turn ^ 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


201 


ing away, “leave me ! I cannot bear tbe sight.” 

But Ventidius laid a hand upon his shoulder. 

“You were still there when I received this 
wound,” he said, with a rough attempt at consola- 
tion. 

“It is useless to try to ease my remorse,” re- 
plied Antony, despairingly. 

Then, for an instant, there was silence, both 
hearts too full for utterance. 

“Tell me, my friend,” said Antony, at last, “tell 
me the number and the names of the dead.” 

“Five thousand, they say. Justeius is of the 
number.” 

“Divinities of the Styx,” cried Antony, “have 
mercy upon his shade ! And Straton ?” 

“He fell into the sea and perished.” 

“Straton once saved my life. Oh, bitter mem- 
ory ! Seams ?” 

“Dead, also.” 

“Seams ! A fatal loss ! He was the last hero 
that remained from Pharsala. Donatns ?” 

“He, too, was killed, and, as he fell, he said, with 
a laugh : ‘It would have been wrong for Antony 
not to keep his appointment.’ ” 

The darkness of the night hid the burning 


202 


SATmOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


flush that dyed Antony’s face and neck. Mad- 
man, fool that he had been ! 

“Like blades of grass,” he groaned, “all my old 
companions have been mowed down by the keen 
sickle of Death. Cneius, in command of the left 
squadron, fought valiantly ; what became of 
him ?” 

“He held out for a long time against the 
enemy, but after your departure ” 

“No,” interrupted Antony, bitterly. “Say the 
word. My flight.” 

“He yielded to Csesar, and is now counted 
among his followers. But, to do him justice, 
Cneius was the last to join him.” 

“And you ?” 

Ventidius hesitated a moment, and cast a fur- 
tive glance to where an enormous rock cast its 
shadow upon the sands. 

The moon was rising over the lake, dispelling 
the darkness and flooding all things with its soft 
radiance. 

“I am not alone, nor was I the only one who 
refused to join his fortunes to Caesar’s.” 

He raised his voice and gave a loud, shrill call. 
In answer to the summons, a score of men 
emerged from behind the rock, and hurrying for- 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


203 


ward knelt at the feet of Antony, who, too as- 
tounded to speak, recognized among them the 
faces of some of his most trusted captains — Der- 
cetas, Philo, Eros, and others. 

“These have come with me,” said Ventidius, 
“with ten legions at their back. We one and all 
acknowledge Antony as our chief, and we wish no 
other leader than he.” 

Antony’s whole frame shook, something sus- 
piciously like moisture glistened in his eye, and 
his voice came very low and hoarse, as he said : 

“Rise, my friends, rise. No, I have lost my 
fair fame ; you must keep yours. I should hut 
teach you to fly ” 

“But, general,” interrupted Dercetas, impetu- 
ously springing to his feet, “that counts for 
naught. That was a naval fight. We soldiers 
need a firmer base for our feet ; the sea is foreign 
to us, the land is our friend. Mother earth loves 
to hold us pressed to her breast, upon which we 
have poured forth our blood. Caesar has taken 
the sea, but the land is ours. Lead us, then, to 
combat !” 

“Yes, lead us ! lead us !” cried the others, 
thronging about him. 

For an instant Antony’s eyes flashed, the old 


204 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


warrior spirit strong within him ; but then, with a 
groan, he waved them back. 

“No,” he said, “Antony is unworthy of you. 
Below there in the harbor is a vessel loaded with 
treasure. Take it and depart, all of you, with 
your soldiers. Octavius will take you into his 
army. Leave me alone in my remorse, that will 
be eternal. Oh, it cuts me to the heart to see you 
all faithful to me ! Leave me ; this farewell is 
my last. Go, do not tempt the vengeance of the 
gods !” 

No one stirred ; but they looked at one another 
in bewilderment, each waiting for the other to 
speak. How to combat this obstinate grief? 

While Antony had been speaking there had 
appeared on the beach, coming from the direction 
of the city, two figures — one a tall, heavily built 
man, and the other a woman, closely vailed. 
When they reached the rock the man paused in 
its shadow, and the woman continued on her way 
alone toward the group of soldiers. She was close 
upon them before any one noticed her. Ventidius 
was the first to do so, and he uttered a loud 
exclamation, which attracted the attention of the 
others. As Antony caught sight of the vailed 
figure he turned white to the lips. But whatever 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


205 


his suspicion was, he was not left long in sus- 
pense. The woman, who was now within a few 
feet of them, threw back her vail and revealed the 
dark face of Charmian, the queen’s waiting- 
woman. 

No one spoke a word, but they all waited in 
breathless eagerness the explanation of her com- 
ing. She approached close to Antony, and, rais- 
ing her eyes to his face said, in a low voice : 

“Noble Antony, I bear a message from my sor- 
rowing mistress.” 

Antony’s brow grew dark with a heavy frown. 

“The queen, my lord,” proceeded Charmian, 
quickly, “is sick with grief. She begs to see you 
but once more.” 

“Never !” cried Antony. “Never more will I 
set eyes upon that false face !” 

“She is ill, her cheeks furrowed with her 
tears ” 

“Tears ! I know what her tears are worth. So 
weeps the crocodile. Away ! Return to her ! 
No, I will not see her.” 

“Have pity, my lord !” pleaded Charmian. “Her 
despair is so great.” 

“No !” 

“Cleopatra ” 


206 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Silence ! I forbid yoii to pronounce tbat name. 
Away, I say, and bear her back my answer : No ! 
No ! No ! and, ten thousand times, no !” 

Sorrowfully Charmian turned away, and made 
her way back to where her escort was awaiting 
her. 

Ventidius, a great joy on his honest old face, 
struck his hands together, and cried aloud : 

“Now, thanks be to Mars and all the gods ! 
Antony is onr own once more. At last he detests 
this black-browed enchantress, at last he knows 
her 1 No I No ! No ! and ten thousand times no ! 
Those words will change the destiny of empires. 
Caesar conspires in vain against liberty. Rome 
will soon resound with the cry : ‘Brave Antony is 
come again !’ ” 

“Brave !” retorted Antony, with intense bitter- 
ness. “Who can now boast of bravery? The 
brave Antony fled before the cowardly Octavius.” 

“No more of that, general,” exclaimed Ven- 
tidins ; “the time for repining is past. Be now, 
as ever, our leader. You have yet to learn that 
Octavius is not three days’ march from here. If 
yoti do not lead us, it will be onr ruin, for, with 
or without you, we are determined to risk the 
battle.” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


207 


“Ye gods ! but you tempt me.” 

“More than this,” continued Ventidius, rapidly, 
and with increasing excitement, “it is rumored 
that Egypt’s Queen has signed a treaty, by which 
she receives pardon as the reward for delivering 
you to Csesar.” 

“By Jupiter Sator!” cried Antony. “That 
wench’s message is now clearly understood. But 
dearly shall Cleopatra pay for this. To-morrow 
we enter Alexandria, and punish her as she de- 
serves.” 

“No! No 1” cried Ventidius, in alarm. “That 
would be, perhaps, to ruin all. Let us await 
Csesar.” 

“The queen first 1” shouted Antony, beside 
himself with anger, “and Csesar afterward!” 

In vain did his companions expostulate with 
him. He was firm. On these conditions alone 
would he resume his leadership. They were 
finall}’- reluctantly forced to yield ; and it was then 
arranged that on the morrow a certain number of 
picked men, under the command of Ventidius and 
Philo, should enter the city in disguise, seize the 
queen, and bring her before Antony to receive 
such punishment as her treachery deserved. 

When this was agreed upon Antony turned 


208 


SARDOV’S CLEOPATRA. 


fiercely toward the city, and drawing his sv/ord 
from its scabbard, cried exultantly : 

“At last, infamous sorceress, I have broken iny 
bonds ! Your spells no longer have power over 
me. I am free ! The sole love of Antony is the 
love of war. Antony is happy only with his old 
soldiers. Yes, my friends, I will lead you once 
more on to victory. Ah, Caesar, do you pretend 
that I have fled? By Hercules, the lion also 
seems to fly when he recoils to spring upon his 
victim ! And I fled, like him, to return the 
stronger to the charge. Like him, wounded, I 
have been sleeping in my lair. Tremble, trem- 
ble, Caesar ! The lion is awake. Come ! Come 
quickly ! I thirst to wash away my shame in thy 
blood. Down with Caesar! Down with the 
tyrant I On to Rome I To Rome !” 

Twenty swords leaped flashing into the moon- 
light, and a mighty shout went up that rent the 
air, and startled away the vultures that had set- 
tled down upon their prey. 

“To Rome I Down with Caesar I To Rome I” 

After the others had retired to their tents, An- 
tony sat upon the shore late into the night, con- 
sulting with Ventidius. After a while the old 
veteran attempted once more to turn his master 


ISAliDOU’S CLEUPATBA. 


209 


from his project of revenge upon Cleopatra, but 
Antony continued obdurate and would not listen. 

“So be it, then,” said Ventidius, with a sigb. 
“At all events, your chain is at last broken, and 
your past errors will soon be effaced. You fight 
for liberty, both your own and that of your coun- 
trymen. May the gods of Rome aid you, and 
banish forever the reign of tyrants !” 

As they were about to return to the camp, An- 
tony laid his hand on his old friend’s arm, and 
said, with exceeding seriousness : 

“Ventidius, one word before you go. No man 
was ever more sianch and loyal to another than 
you have been to me. But I have still one request 
to make.” 

“Speak,” said Ventidius, earnestly. “My dear 
lord, I hear but to obey.” 

“I believe,” said Antony, hesitating a little, 
“that in the approaching conflict we shall conquer, 
but my hopes may mislead my judgment. If we 
are defeated, I look to you to see that I do not fall 
into the hands of the enemy. You — you remem- 
ber how Straton delivered Brutus. I have his 
courage, at least, if I have not his virtues. Swear 
to me that, in the event of the worst, you will 
plunge your sword into this heart. Swear it !” 


210 


SARD 0 U’S CLEOPA TEA. 


Ventidius recoiled, a look of horror upon his 
face. 

“But ” 

“Nay,” interrupted Antony, earnestly. “Do 
not stop to argue. Swear it, my friend, swear it ” 

Ventidius paused a moment before replying, 
drew a deep breath, and then said, quietly : 

“I swear it !” 

Without another word, they walked side by side 
back to the tents. The sandy shore was deserted 
of human presence, and the vultures, with dis- 
cordant cries, hovered again above their prey, 
ready to rend with greedy talons. 


8ABD0U’S CLEOPATRA. 


211 


CHAPTER XVI. 

QUEEN AND GODDESS. 

Perhaps the most superb of all the magnificent 
palaces of Cleopatra was the Palace of the Ptole- 
mies, on which she had lavished all the resources 
of her enormous riches, all the wealth of her re- 
fined taste. Built in the eastern part of the city 
of Alexandria, at that time one of the finest cities 
of the world, and the center of learning and theol- 
ogy, it overlooked the Canopic mouth of the Nile. 
On one side it communicated directly with the 
mausoleum which Cleopatra had erected for her 
own monument, a gigantic pile of sculptured 
stone, with no visible openings save the door, set 
far in between two enormous sitting statues, and 
the broad window above it. Across the front 
were hieroglyphics setting forth the mighty deeds 
and extraordinary accomplishments of “the queen 
that lives forever.” On the opposite side of the 
palace was a spacious garden, across which was a 


212 SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 

double row of colonnades connecting witli tbe 
Temple of Horns. 

It was higb noon ; and at a window in an 
upper story of the palace, overlooking the gar- 
den, stood the queen, arrayed in her most regal 
robes, with a diadem of jeweled serpents upon 
her head. To-day in the temple was to take 
place a most solemn service, an invocation to the 
gods to ward off the danger that threatened 
Egypt and its queen from Octavius and his ad- 
vancing hosts. 

The queen was very pale, and her lovely feat- 
ures wore an expression of grief and pain, which 
was but in small measure due to the reported 
approach of the hostile Roman legions. Last 
night she had lowered her pride and sent Char- 
mian to beg an interview from Antony, only to 
be refused with scorn and contempt. Could she 
but see Antony, she felt confident that her pow- 
ers of fascination would win him back again, but 
to seek him in the midst of his soldiers, who she 
knew were filled with the bitterest hostility to 
herself, she did not dare. Although, in her flight 
from Actium, she had done him the foulest wrong, 
she loved him moi'e passionately than ever, and 
she longed with a wild longing for the return cf 


SAEDOU'S CLEOPATEA. 


213 


his love for her. In the presence of the grief she 
felt at the loss of Antony, the impending doom of 
her kingdom counted as little or nothing. For 
the moment, she would have gladly torn off her 
crown and cast aside her scepter, if by so doing 
she could have blotted out Actium, and regained 
her former place in Antony’s heart. 

Beside the queen stood Serapion, who, as chief 
augur and royal astrologer, had been summoned 
from Memphis to read, the stars and foretell what 
would be the result of the struggle between the 
Egyptians and Romans. 

“You are sure, Serapion,” said Cleopatra, 
wearily, “that your predictions are not at fault?” 

“Great Queen,” replied the old priest. “The 
gods alone rule. I am but the humble interpre- 
ter of their will. Strange portents and prodi- 
gies have been frequent of late. The Nile o’er- 
flowed before its accustomed season, and ” 

“I know all that,” interrupted the queen, impa- 
tiently. “You need not repeat it. But where is 
the storm that you promised to destroy the 
Roman fleet ? Look ! There is not a cloud in 
the changeless blue of the sky.” 

vSerapion approached closer to the window and 


214 


SAEDOU’S CLEOFATEA. 


pointed to wliere, low on the horizon, lay a nar- 
row dark streak. 

“Look, there,” he said. “I have not been de- 
ceived. The storm is brewing. Before nightfall 
it will be upon them.” 

“If your words prove true, by Horns, you shall 
he owner of more wealth than your old heart ever 
dreamt of, even in its youthful days when it 
beat high with hope. I fear not the army of 
Caesar. It is his ships that strike terror to my 
soul.” 

And she repeated unconsciously Antony’s ever- 
recurring cry of despair : 

“Oh ! Actium ! Actium !” 

As her eyes wander vaguely over the garden 
below, suddenly she sees a figure, in a long, dark 
cloak, appear from behind a clump of flowering 
bushes close to the entrance of the temple. It 
was only for a moment, and then it vanished 
again. What was there in this shrouded figure 
to cause the queen’s heart to leap in her bosom, 
and the blood to rush in crimson torrents to her 
pale cheek ? The eyes of love are keen, however, 
and in that fleeting vision she had recognized, or 
fancied that she recognized the man on whom all 
her thoughts were fixed. But, in another instant. 


SATWOU’S CLEOPATKA. 


■215 


she impatiently drove away the idea. Had she 
become so blind to all else that the form of an 
idle stroller should take on the semblance of 
Antony ? 

She turned half angrily away from the window, 
and said, to Serapion : 

“Come ! It is time to proceed to tlje temple.” 

But the queen’s intuition had not played her 
false. The man in the dark mantle was indeed 
Antony. In obedience to his commands of the 
night before, Ventidius with a small, but trusty 
band of men, had early in the morning gained 
access to the city in disguise. There they had 
learned of the ceremony that was to take place 
that day, and Ventidius had succeeded in bribing 
one of the servants of the palace to entrust him 
with the key of a small gate that opened into the 
palace gardens. He hoped, by this means, to 
admit his followers, seize the queen as she went 
to or returned from the temple, and in the midst 
of the confusion bear her away before she could 
be rescued by her guards. The plan might pos- 
sibly have succeeded, had it not been for Antony 
himself, who, unable to bear the suspense, and 
perhaps impelled by a longing to hasten the time 
when he should look once more upon the haunt- 


216 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


ing face of his treacherous love, determined to go 
himself into Alexandria. Poorly dressed in the 
costume of a boatman, and carrying over his arm 
a heavy mantle, he managed to pass through the 
gates of the city. Then, wrapping the mantle 
about him so as partially to conceal his face, he 
made his way through the broad, crowded streets, 
toward the palace. When he came in sight of 
the great building, chance favored him ; for he 
saw emerging from one of the lower entrances, a 
woman whom, although she was vailed, he recog- 
nized. It was Iras. 

Hurrying forward, he cautiously addressed her, 
and lowered his mantle so that she might see his 
face. As she recognized who it was that accosted 
her, the girl uttered a low cry of alarm. 

“Hush !” exclaimed Antony, quickly. “Attract 
no attention, but listen.” 

“You here, my lord?” faltered Iras. 

“Yes. I wish to see the queen.” 

“But Charmian returned last night ” 

“Since last night I have repented my harsh- 
ness. Take me, good Iras, to where I can see 
her.” 

Iras suspected no treachery ; she felt only de- 
light that what she knew was her mistress’ dear- 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


217 


est wish was to come to pass. So she led Antony- 
through the temple into the garden, where he 
concealed himself among the' bushes, waiting for 
Cleopatra’s appearance. Iras had told him of the 
ceremonies in the temple, and that Cleopatra 
would pass through the garden on her way to 
participate in them. 

It is difficult to say exactly what feeling was 
predominant in Antony’s breast as he waited im- 
patiently for Cleopatra’s coming — anger, a thirst 
for revenge, or eagerness to be once more in her 
presence, to look once more upon the fatal beauty 
that had enthralled him and lured him to his 
ruin. In his restlessness, he moved about from 
place to place, forgetful that he might be observed 
and recognized. 

At last the lofty doors of the palace were thrown 
open and the royal procession appeared, wending 
its way across the garden, between the colonnades, 
to the temple. 

First came a detachment of the queen’s body- 
guard in gleaming armor, led by Kephren, the 
faithful ; then, youths and maidens, bearing gar- 
lands of flowers to lay as offerings upon the holy 
shrines ; then the priests in their snowy robes, 
Serapion last, with footsteps heavy with the 


218 


SAIiD OU’S CLEOPA TRA. 


weight of years, yet with body erect. Finally, 
behind them all, in the midst of her women, 
proudly, regally, advanced Cleopatra. 

The head of the procession had passed into the 
temple, when, just as the queen was opposite to 
the clump of hushes behind which Antony was 
hidden, the latter, carried away with the fierce 
tumult of his feelings, thrust aside the branches 
and peered out. Cleopatra, attracted by the rust- 
ling sound, glanced aside, and her eyes looked 
straight into his. She turned white to the lips, 
and staggered a little as if she would fall. In a 
moment, however, she seemed to recover herself 
She stopped short, and, turning to Charmian, 
who was on her right, said a few hurried words. 
The women passed on, and entered the temple, 
leaving Cleopatra alone. As the last flowing 
robe vanished within the portals, she advanced a 
step or two, with both white, jeweled hands 
pressed against her throbbing heart, and upon 
Antony’s senses fell once again the soft intona- 
tion of that music-laden voice. 

“Antony ! Antony !” 

With a crashing sound, he forced his way 
through the foliage and stood before her. His 
brow was stern and his lips compressed, as his 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


219 


gaze rested upon the surpassing grace and loveli- 
ness of that most royal woman. 

Timidly she raised the lids with their curling 
lashes and flashed upon him the midnight glory 
of her eyes. In spite of himself, something of 
his wrath passed away and a great yearning took 
its place. 

“Forgive ! Forgive !” she murmured. “Let 
my dear lord remove his anger from his hand- 
maiden.” 

“No,” replied Antony, his voice coming hoarse 
through his unsteady lips, “I wish to hate you in 
expiation of my crime.” 

The color flushed warm upon the delicate oval 
of her cheek, but she still kept flxed upon him 
the tender pleading of her gaze. 

“I am guilty, alas, yes. Be just and curse 
me, if you will. But, permit me at least to weep 
at your side. Actium ” 

At this unfortunate word, all Antony’s anger 
burst into flame again. 

“You, woman,” he interrupted violently, “you 
have filched from me my honor. I was great ; 
you have made me vile, infamous, miserable ! To 
betray me for Csesar ! that hated rival !” 


220 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


She caught her breath, and two glistening 
tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“I should not have been there if I had betrayed 
you.” 

“Why, then, did your vessels cowardly sail away 
in the very midst of the fight ?” 

“What is the use of excusing myself?” she re- 
plied, with a sob. “You would not believe me.” 

“What excuse can there be ? And to follow 
her I deserted my soldiers, that invincible army 
that had been faithful to me through all ! For 
her I did that !” 

She stretched out her hands piteously, as if to 
silence him, but he proceeded inexorably : 

“Yes, for you, faithless woman! No! You 
are right. I would not believe you. And yet, is 
there aught you could say to justify yourself? 
To whom did you wish to saerifice me ? To sell 
me? To Caesar! To Caesar! Everything 
proves it !” 

Within the temple were heard the chants of 
the priests, but these two were deaf to all save 
the sound of each other’s voice. 

“Yes,” said Cleopatra, her limbs trembling with 
the emotion she could not control. “Yes, all, all 
is against me. It was an inexplicable delirium. 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 221 

I, even I, accuse myself. I do not know what 
horrible demon took possession of me. I hoped 
so much from the glory of that day, and I had so 
much faith in our destiny. In vain did presenti- 
ments of evil besiege me. I braved even the 
counsel of the divine oracle. I was proud to con- 
fide my scepter to your fortunes. I had a noble 
part to play and I wished to fill it well. I was 
present at the combat and without a tremor. I 
adored a hero, the happy master of the universe ; 
and by a chance, hitherto unexampled, I, a 
woman, was a witness of his warlike exploits. 
How proud I was then ! I watched you at a dis- 
tance. Your voice even, roaring its commands, 
reached our ears. How handsome I thought 
you in your golden armor*! Then, I had no 
thought of danger I You seemed to me a being 
from a heavenly shore, an invincible immortal I 
No ! never was proud warrior or illustrious con- 
queror grander, more terrible in combat than 
you !” 

She paused, breathless with excitement. An- 
tony’s face was flushed. He had forgotten, for 
the moment, his shame, and remembered only 
the deeds of prowess he had performed. 

“You saw me in the fight ?” he said. 


222 SAEDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 

“Yes,” she answered, noticing with a thrill the 
change in his manner, “and. how full of admira- 
tion I was of you ! How proud I was that I had 
courage! War seemed to me a magnificent 
game. I did not tremble ! In the midst of my 
women, upon the deck of the vessel, splashed by 
the spray, my hair floating upon the wind, I 
mingled my voice with the cries of the comba- 
tants and reveled in delight as at some great 
feast. We drank to Neptune, to Jupiter Sator, 
and to Mars, and we flung our cups of gold into 
the waves. Joyfully we went from prow to stern. 
At each libation, the cups were thrown over, for 
W'e sought, by rich offerings, to purchase the 
favor of the sea and its deities.” 

“You asked of the gods the success of our 
arms,” interrupted Antony, “and you shared our 
dangers? You were filled with admiration for 
me, did you say ? Then, why did you leave me ? 
What demon impelled you to do so? Speak 1” 

She was fighting a battle herself, now, fighting 
for tremendous stakes, and with no weapons save 
her own wit. Eagerly, thirstily, she pleaded her 
cause, her exquisite voice now rising in passion- 
ate entreaty, now softening into murmurs of ten- 
derness. 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


223 

“It was fatality ! Listen ! Before us com- 
menced tlie carnage. Flaming brands swept by 
us on tbe water ; on all sides sbot up tbe flames. 
It was a frightful spectacle in its confused horror 
— those ships struggling furiously upon the 
water ; on the shore, the motionless army watch- 
ing the flght, trying to judge of the varying for- 
tunes through the smoke, the savage cries, the 
hissing of the arrows and javelins, the blood 

which crimsoned the blue of the waves Oh ! 

it was too much for even the pride of a queen ! 
I could no longer see you — my reason was totter- 
ing, when a fatal chance came to complete my 
agony. One of my sailors was wounded and fell 
upon the deck of the vessel, his blood pouring 
forth and staining the deck. I approached him. 
Ye gods ! he resembled you ! I do not know 
what horrible presage of evil seized me, but, as I 
saw death upon that noble face, I suddenly thought 
that, like that sailor, you might in your turn 
perish in the flght. You, dead! You die for 
Caesar 1 You ! Misery 1 Madness I When one 
can live for love, to die for a vain name ! I con- 
fess that, in that wretched moment, I knew noth- 
ing of pride, of courage, of glory, of that false 
embalming in memory that is called history ; 


224 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


your enemies to me appeared as criminals. I 
cursed your glory and your mad bravery. War 
seemed to me now stupid and cowardly. I per- 
ceived in a sacred duty only frightful dangers for 
a being I adored. I forgot your exploits and 
your renown, and Caesar, and empire, and my 
Egypt, and Rome ! I saw nothing save the 
spilling of your blood, the sword suspended above 
your head ! And all means seemed to me good, 
in that horrible dream, to stop that bloodshed 
and to turn aside that sword. Trembling, mad 
with fear, I gave the signal to hoist the sails. 
You would see my flight and follow me — I knew 
it. It was so sudden that I calculated nothing, 
neither your sorrow nor your shame. I did not 
think that I was bringing dishonor upon you, I 
thought only that I was saving you. To-day I 
understand, and my remorse overwhelms me. 
Oh ! if death could justify me in your eyes ! See, 
Antony, I offer my breast to your dagger! 
Strike! You will love me, perhaps, after you 
have struck me ! Strike, my lord, my love, my 
king !” 

She ceased. The tears' were streaming down 
her cheeks, and her voice died away as if choked 
in its utterance. And Antony ? Could this be 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


225 


the man who, the previous night, had vowed ven- 
geance upon Cleopatra, who, only an hour or two 
before, had entered that garden wild with anger 
against her — this man who now, with a passion- 
ate cry, drew her close into his arms, and looked 
with deepest love npon the face of her whom he 
had stigmatized as traitress. 

“And I accused you! It is I who am the 
guilty one.” 

“Forgive I Forgive !” she sobbed. 

“Egypt,” he murmured, ardently, “it is true 
that I fled before Octavius, and he has taken 
from me the empire. Trne I Bnt this moment, 
this moment alone has restored to me all that he 
conqnered from me, all that I have lost. Let 
him come, this conqueror ! In my turn, I brave 
him! Your chance snccesses, yonng and pru- 
dent Caesar, I do not envy. No ! I love better 
my reverses. Keep the world, and leave me Cleo- 
patra !” 

She glanced shyly up at him, smiling through 
her tears. 

“You no longer hate me, then?” 

“Hate ! You alone are all to me, and I fear 
nothing when I trust you. For this is my secret, 


226 


SARDOU'S CLEOPATRA 


niy Cleopatra. I have only one enemy, and his 
name is doubt ; doubt is the fatal enemy against 
which I have no defense. I fear doubt more than 
triumphant Caesar. When I doubt you, all my 
courage expires. Why fight then ? I no longer 
wish for empire. I forget my fame, my glory, 
my battle flags, my old soldiers. All that I care 
for is to put forever to flight this insupportable 
doubt.” 

“And I will force you to believe in me forever !” 
she cried, thrilling with happiness at having won 
the battle and regained her lover, while the 
thought went flashing through her mind : “Bet- 
ter that he should be shamed and here, than 
victorious in Rome and with Octavia.” 

But, suddenly, the grating of a key in the lock 
of a door in the wall just behind them startled 
them both. She sprang from his embrace. The 
door opened cautiously and Ventidius appeared 
peering into the garden. Behind him were a 
score or so of men. As soon as the old soldier 
caught sight of his master and the queen, he 
uttered an exclamation of surprise, and rushed 
forward, followed by the others. 

“So, general,” he exclaimed, “you have fore- 
stalled us and trapped the bird yourself. Seize 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 227 

her, men, and carry her away before the alarm 
can be given.” 

But, before one of them could move a step to 
obey the order, Antony sprang in front of the 
queen. With his eyes flashing fire, he drew his 
dagger from his belt. 

“Whoever lays a hand upon her, dies,” he cried. 
“Back, on your lives ! Back, I say, back !” 

The men shrank away and looked at one an- 
other in bewilderment. Ventidius’ rugged face 
flushed darkly. 

“What mean you, noble Antony?” he said. 
“Was it not your own orders ” 

“What my orders may have been, matters but 
little,” retorted Antony, angrily. “I have found 
out my mistake. Cleopatra is true to me and my 
love.” 

At these words, Ventidius could not contain 
himself. 

“Love !” he burst forth. “Oh ! touching spec- 
tacle ! Oh ! worthy, noble love ! So, you have 
pardoned the one who would carry you away 
again into slavery!” 

“Silence 1” began Antony ; but the queen 
moved haughtily forward, and stood face to face 
with the one she knew to be her most inveterate 


228 


SAIWOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


enemy. How site liated this Roman who had 
dared more than once to oppose her, and whose 
influence over Antony she knew and feared ! 

“Let him speak,” she said, uprearing her head 
haughtily. “I will answer his accusations.” 

Honest Ventidius was in no whit deterred from 
his purpose. He realized that the struggle was 
an unequal one, that the prize was already firmly 
held in Cleopatra’s grasp, that their general was 
now irrevocably lost to his soldiers, but, neverthe- 
less, he determined to fight to the last gasp. 

“Ay! you may well say accusations,” he re- 
torted. “Yon have betrayed Antony I You have 
signed a treaty to deliver him into the hands of 
Caesar. Caesar himself boasts of the fact.” 

Antony started. For the moment he had for- 
gotten what had been told him the night before. 
But the queen smiled disdainfully. 

“I know Caesar and his character too well to 
sign a treaty with him,” she said. “It is false I” 

“Words ! Words I” said Ventidius. “Remem- 
ber Actium, Antony, remember Actium.” 

“There, I brave your malice. Antony knows 
now why I fled. ’Twas fear for him. Ah I my 
dear lord, would that I had been a man not to 
have known that fear, for then these Romans, 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATEA. 


229 


wlio envy me your love, and seek to take it from 
me, would not have envied me your friendship.” 

“But Caesar!” exclaimed Ventidius, feeling 
more and more that his direct honesty was no 
match for her wiles. “Answer 1 Have you not 
agreed with him to deliver Antony ?” 

“To you I disdain reply I But,” turning to 
Antony, “that his slanderous tongue may no 
longer poison your ears, to you, noble Antony, I 
tell all. His accusation has this much truth. 
By a messenger Octavius has sent me this. If I 
could have home life and greatness away from 
yon, this would have given me the means.” 

As she spoke, she drew from the folds of her 
robe a small roll of papyrus and extended it to 
Antony. 

“Beware, general,” cried Ventidius. “ ’Tis but 
another ruse !” 

If a look had power to kill, the old veteran 
would have fallen dead at the feet of the Egyp- 
tian queen. But Antony paid no attention to the 
warning. He had unrolled the papyrus, and was 
eagerly perusing the writing. 

“By Hercules !” he muttered. “It is Octavius’ 
hand. Took, Ventidins ! Look, Eros ! He 
offers here Egypt, with all Syria joined to it as 


230 SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 

a present, if she will forsake my fortunes and 
join with him against me. And your answer?” 

Cleopatra smiled. 

“My answer ! There was none. Beneath the 
walls, upon the sands, lies the body of the mes- 
senger, pierced with a hundred wounds. To-night 
the vultures will feed upon the carrion. Antony ! 
Antony ! For this vain diadem, for the safety of 
Egypt, I would have betrayed a hundred kings, 
but you, never ! You I loved !” 

“Queen of my soul, I believe you !” cried An- 
tony, tearing the message of Caesar into bits. 
“And so perish forever all calumnies against you !” 

Upon Ventidius the queen flashed one quick 
glance of ferocious, savage joy. The old soldier 
shrank back sorrowfully — defeated. 

Once more from the temple hurst forth in loud 
refrain the holy chants : 

Isis, Osiris, Homs ! 

Horns, Isis, Osiris ! 

Osiris, Horns, Isis ! 

This time Cleopatra started, and raised her 
eyes quickly to the sky. Above the high wall of 
the garden loomed up a cloud of inky blackness. 
In another moment it would obscure the brilliancy 
of the sun. 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATBA. 


■iZ\ 


“Come witli me,” she said to Antony, “and let 
us invoke together the aid of the gods against our 
common enemy.” 

With her glittering robes trailing behind her 
she swept on into the temple. Antony followed. 

With a heavy sigh Ventidius turned to his 
comrades. 

“There is naught to do now,” he said, mourn- 
fully, “save to await the end.” 

The vast temple was thronged. All Alexandria 
had hastened there to beseech the gods of Egypt 
to save the city from the Roman invasion. Be- 
fore all the shrines, which were heaped with 
votive offerings, burned flaming lights. Close to 
the altar of Horns, the titulary deity of the temple, 
stood the venerable form of Serapion. 

Still followed by Antony, as if he were some 
captive in her triumphal procession, which indeed 
he was, Cleopatra moved forward between the 
double row of guards, to where a throne had been 
prepared for her. Mounting the steps of the plat- 
form, covered with cloths of gold and scarlet, she 
seated herself in the sumptuous chair. Antony 
remained below. 

In high, sweet strains rolled the solemn chorus : 

Isis, Osiris, Horns! 


232 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


Then, as the last notes died away, Cleopatra 
majestically arose to her feet. Instantly a hush 
fell over the whole vast assemblage. 

“My people,” she said, in her clear, vibrant 
voice, that reached the furthermost comers of the 
i m mense place, “the invader, ere to-morrow’s sxin, 
will be at our gates. People, soldiers, priests, in 
this the hour of their danger rally to the defense 
of your queen and your country ! What ! shall 
the insulting Caesar lay his envious grasp upon 
this our Alexandria ? Shall the daughter of the 
Ptolemies be chained to his triumphal car? 
Never! Never! Never! You, all of you, my 
countrymen, rally round me, and crouch ready to 
fly at the throat of the presumptuous Roman ! 
Aid my hope ! Accomplish, at last, a divine duty ! 
Defend with me this cherished city ! Oh, I will 
teach you the love of country — ^that most holy of 
love. Our country is the place where are set the 
altars of our gods, where our children have been 
born, where the venerated ashes of our ancestors 
repose. And to this noble love no one can be 
faithless. If we are banished from the land we 
adore, we dream only of her in our exile, and 
when grim Death lays his cold hand upon us we 
turn our dim eyes toward our country, praying 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


233 


that our bones, at least, may rest in ber sacred 
soil. Up, my people ! up about me ! Give to tbe 
nations of tbe world an example to follow ! De- 
fend your tombs !” 

In response to ber appeal a migbty roar went 
up from tbe populace : 

“Cleopatra ! Egypt ! Egypt ! Cleopatra 

But above tbe tumult tbe queen’s quick ear 
caugbt a low rumble sbe knew to be thunder, 
Tbe storm must now be close upon them. She 
raised ber hand for silence. Then, as tbe shouts 
died away, sbe lifted ber white arms in the air and 
turned ber face upward to tbe heavens. For an 
instant all was still, and then sbe cried, in thrill- 
ing tones : 

“Oh, Holy Isis, sacred mother, mistress of 
heaven, eye of tbe sun, regent of the gods ! Ob, 
Osiris, spouse of Isis, son of Ra, judge of Hades ! 
Oh, Horus, divine hawk-eyed one, who didst 
suckle at tbe breast of Isis ! Hear me now ! All 
powerful gods, I invoke your aid ! Bend your 
ears to tbe appeal of ber who is your suppliant ! 
Cast down, from your lofty heights, your starry 
eyes upon this land of Egypt that has always 
been your well-beloved ! Not as woman do I raise 
my voice and call upon ye — not as queen, even, 


234 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


but as Evergetes, your sister goddess. Ob, divine 
ones, if but for a moment acknowledge me as one 
of ye — for a single bour lend me tbe eternal 
crown ! Isis, bear me ! Osiris, bear me ! Horus, 
bear me ! Lend me tbe armaments of beaven to 
drive tbe insulting hosts from off my shores ! 
Send Typbon, the ruler of tbe tempest, with his 
invincible weapons, tbe lightning and the thun- 
der, to strike this bastard Caesar and his legions 
forever from tbe face of tbe earth ! Hurl against 
them your thunderbolts ! Strike them with yonr 
flaming lightning ! Crush them ! Slay them ! 
Annihilate them! Let the waters overwhelm 
them ! Let the sands of the desert be their wind- 
ing sheet ! Ye gods, hear my voice ! Grant the 
petition of your sister, Evergetes I Isis, Osiris, 
Horus I Horus I Isis I Osiris ! Osiris I Horus I 
Isis !” 

Her passion-fraught pleadings died away in 
silence. With her arms still raised she stood, 
magnificent, superb, before the awed and breath- 
less people. 

Then suddenly, as if indeed the gods had heard 
and answered her invocation, there was a blinding 
flash of lightning, followed by a terrific peal of 
thunder. One great shriek went up, and then 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA, 


235 


the whole vast multitude fell prone upon their 
faces before the majestic figure of their queen and 
goddess. Antony, who himself was strangely 
troubled, and the priests before the shrines, alone 
remained standing. 

The wind howled terrifically about the sacred 
edifice, the cataracts of the clouds were poured 
forth upon the earth and the elements raged with 
awe-inspiring fury. 

Then, as suddenly as it had arisen, the storm 
was allayed, and in place of the shrieking tem- 
pest intense quiet reigned. 

Cleopatra made .a sign to Serapion, and once 
more the rich music of the sacred hymn rolled 
through the temple. 

Slowly the queen descended the steps of the 
throne, and held out her hand to Antony. 

Her face was very pale, but about her lips 
played a mysterious, bewildering smile. 

“Oh, wonder of the world !” murmured Antony, 
beneath his breath. 

Hand in hand they passed, amid the chants of 
the priests and through aisles of prostrate forms, 
out of the temple, by Ventidius and his compan- 
ions, who were huddled together in the portico, 


236 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


across the dripping garden and into the perfumed 
splendors of the palace. 

Once more the will of the Queen of Egypt is 
triumphant. 

Let to-morrow bring forth what it will ! To- 
night belongs to. love. They will revel in the 
happiness of living, and forget all else save that 
they are together. 

What matters shame, even ? Is the universe 
worth one kiss from the lips of Cleopatra ? 


iSARDOU’8 CLEOPATRA. 


237 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ALL, IS lost! 

It is the hour just before the dawn, the second 
day after the ceremonies in the temple. The city 
is asleep and the shadows lay dark in the gardens 
of the palace of the Ptolemies. Early as it is, a 
man is pacing to and fro under the colonades. 
Now and then he glances impatiently up at the 
dark walls of the palace. 

At last what he has been watching for appears. 
A door opens, and a young girl comes out upon 
the platform, Down the steps she hastens, and 
peers into the garden. Then, seeing the man, 
she utters a low cry, and hurries toward him, 
“Pharon ! Pharon 1 Is it really you ?” 

“My faithful Iras. I knew that you would 
come, undeserving as I am of a single thought,” 
“No, say not that, Pharon. I will not pretend 
to misunderstand you. We are not masters of 
our hearts. Else would you not love the queen, 
nor I you.” 


238 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


He sighed, and nervously plucked the leaves 
from a low bush near him. 

“You received my message ?” 

“Yes. Uncle told me last night of your arrival, 
and that you would be here just before dawn. Oh, 
Pharon, you were safe in Greece. Why have you 
returned to this fated city ?” 

“Fated, indeed ! But can you ask ? The queen 
was in danger.” 

She lowered her eyes, with an expression of 
pain. 

“But what can you do ?” 

“I know not. Sometimes the lowliest can serve 
the highest. Tell me, how is the queen ?” 

“Ah !” she replied, bitterly. “It is for that you 
have sent for me ! I am nothing to you. Nay,” 
with a quick revulsion of feeling, “I meant not 
that The queen is well. Is not Antony here ?” 

The last words contained a bit of malice that 
not even the gentle Iras could forbear giving ut- 
terance to. 

“Antony ! True. And yet Antony is no 
longer anything. At the battle of Actium set the 
star of his destiny. Ah, god of foolish loves, how 
strange are thy caprices ! Thou didst choose the 
proudest and most courageous of men, and didst 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


239 


lure him to his ruin ; then thou didst awaken the 
wretched slave, and didst place the hero’s courage 
in his miserable breast. And yet, we both loved 
the same woman, our passion was bom of the 
same flame. Oh, Antony ! Antony ! even in thy 
fall I envy thee thy lot.” 

“Hark !” interrupted Iras, suddenly. “What is 
that noise ?” 

“What noise ?” 

“Do you not hear a confused murmur within 
the city ?” 

He listened for a moment, and then exclaimed, 
excitedly : 

“Yes, yes, it is like the clamor of voices.” 

And, impelled by the same fear, they both 
turned and rushed up the steps to the platform, 
where they could see above the high wall of the 
garden. 

The dawn was already breaking. 'The east was 
aflame with the glowing colors that heralded the 
sun’s approach. But see, through the sycamores, 
those glancing lights ! Is it running water kissed 
by the flrst rays of the sun ? No ! it is the glit- 
ter of Roman spears and cuirasses ! Louder and 
louder grows the noise — cries and the trampling 


240 


SABDOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


of hurrying feet. A voice in the square, before the 
palace, shrieks : 

“We are betrayed! Caesar’s army is within 
our gates 1” 

“Quick 1 Quick 1” cried Pharon. “Warn the 
queen I” 

But his companion had already vanished. He 
turned and rushed blindly into the palace. There 
was no sign of Iras, but already all was in com- 
motion, Pharon hurried to a window and looked 
out upon the square. It was too late. Already 
the Roman legions were surrounding the palace. 

Where were the gods who but two days before 
had promised the annihilation of Caesar and his 
army? Disgnsted at Antony’s weakness, and 
without Ventidius, who had remained in Alexan- 
dria with his master in the vain hope of inducing 
him to return to the camp, Antony’s legions have 
surrendered, and treachery has opened the gates- 
of Alexandria to victorious Caesar. All is lost — 
even honor. 

And where is Antony, to whose mad infatuation 
all these disasters are due? 

Stunned, horrified, he has just heard from Ven- 
tidius the direful news. All hope is gone ! To 
struggle would be folly. 


SAlWO'CrS CLEOPATRA. 


241 


He turned his haggard eyes upon his old friend, 
as if to seek advice from him. 

Ventidius shook his head sadly, and groaned 
aloud : 

“It is useless, general. There is no escape.” 

“But the queen, Ventidius, the queen! Cleo- 
patra !” 

Scarcely were the words uttered when just out- 
side arose a wailing cry : 

“The queen is dead I The queen is dead !” 

With one bound Antony was in the corridor, 
and seized by his tunic one of the slaves who went 
flying by. 

“What is it ? Speak ! The queen ?” 

“Alas, my lord,” said the man, who was trem- 
bling with fear and horror. “The queen is no 
more. Before her women could prevent her, she 
plunged her dagger in her heart.” 

White as ashes, Antony released him and stag- 
gered back to the side of Ventidius. 

“So, my old friend,” he gasped, “all is over. 
She is dead, and ” 

“General,” cried Ventidius, “there is yet a 
chance of escape. Quick ! would you be taken ?” 

“Yes, but not alive. Do your duty, old soldier. 
The hour has come.” 


242 


SAHDOU’8 CLEOPATRA. 


And he pointed significantly at the sword which 
Ventidius wore at his side. 

The veteran understood, and his lips twitched 
convulsively. 

“What! I — I — ” he faltered. “I pierce that 
heart, that even the weapons of the enemy have 
always respected!” 

“Ventidius, you swore it!” said Antony, sol- 
emnly. 

Slowly the old man drew his sword. 

“Strike!” 

“No! No! I cannot.” 

“Strike, Isay!” 

Suddenly a strange expression, almost a smile, 
lit up the rugged, scarred features. 

“Farewell, my emperor !” he said. “Nay, that 
is too cold a word — my friend. Now turn away 
your head. I cannot strike while your eyes are 
upon me.” 

Antony obeyed, baring his breast as he did so. 

Then Ventidius lifted high the sword, and 
plunging it, not into the breast of Antony, but 
into his own, fell heavily to the ground. 

With a cry of horror, Antony sank down beside 
him and raised his head. The eyes, which were 


SAIWOWS CLEOPATRA. 


243 


already growing dim, looked up at him with a 
devotion that not even Death could conquer. 

“Thus,” he gasped, “do I escape the grief of 
killing Mark Antony.” 

His head fell back. The brave, loyal spirit had 
fled. 

Very gently did Antony release his hold. 

“Farewell, old friend,” he murmured. “That 
is the first time you have failed to keep your 
word. Oh, Brutus, your conqueror, unworthy of 
that name, is forced to envy you. Straton, Cleo- 
patra, Ventidius, I follow your example. Rome, 
pardon me ! I might have saved you !” 

Then he drew the sword from Ventidius’ bosom, 
plunged it in his own, and fell, with a groan, to 
the floor. 

Scarcely had he done so when the door was 
burst open and Kephren, followed by two burly 
slaves, rushed into the room. 

“Quick ! Quick, my lord !” cried Kephren. 

Then, as he saw the two bodies lying upon the 
ground, he started back with an exclamation of 
affright. 

But Antony moved and raised himself on one 
elbow. 


244 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Who is it calls ?” he said, faintly. “Kephren ! 
What, has cruel death refused my soul ?” 

The captain of the guard knelt down by his 
side. 

“Oh, my lord!” he said. “What has induced 
you to do this deed ? The queen has sent for 
you.” 

“The queen ! When saw you the queen?” 

“But now, my lord. I come from her.” 

“But Cleopatra is dead.” 

“Not so, my lord. The report was false. The 
queen has fled with her women to the monument, 
where she proposes to barricade herself against 
Caesar.” 

“Not dead! Not dead! Bear me to her.” 

“Yes,” exelaimed Kephren, “there is still time, 
perchance. The Romans have not yet penetrated 
the palace.” 

As he spoke, he motioned to the two slaves, 
who stooped and raised Antony in their arms. 
Then, followed by Kephren, they carried him 
from the room. 

Alone and forgotten lay the body of Ventidius. 


SAIWOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


245 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THK LAST KISS OF ALL. 

In an npper chamber of the monument was 
Cleopatra, attended by Kephren, Charmian, and 
Iras, all that now remained to her of that vast 
retinue that, but yesterday, had been obedient to 
her nod. 

It was a large room, with walls of black and 
red granite, brilliantly lighted from above, by 
lamps set in the form of a crescent, with numer- 
ous lesser lights representing the starry satelites 
of the queen of the night. On either side of the 
broad doorway were enormous statues of the two 
Rameses,who, in their calm grandeur, looked down 
with placid, unruffled eyes upon the doom of 
Egypt and the fall of its queen. 

Piled in one corner of the apartment were treas- 
ures of all descriptions, gold and silver plate, 
jewels and costly raiment; and among them the 
royal mantle, crown and scepter. 

In a curtained recess, upon Cleopatra’s golden 


248 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATBA. 


bed, lay Antony, asleep. Kepbren and bis slaves 
bad been in time, and, before tbe invasion of tbe 
palace by Caesar’s troops, bad managed to carry 
bim to tbe monument, where tbe blood from bis 
wound bad been staunched, and he himself ten- 
derly cared for by the queen and her maidens. 

Of little avail, however, had been the elaborate 
barricades, the bolts and bars and chains. It 
took but a short time for the Romans to force an 
entrance. Guards were stationed before the doors 
of the chamber, although the privacy of the queen 
had not as yet been molested. 

Back and forth, upon the tesselated marble of 
the floor, paced Cleopatra, the silken masses of 
her hair unbound and disheveled, and the dusky 
splendor of her eyes dimmed with weeping. Now 
and then she would. pause near the gorgeous bed 
and bend over the prostrate form of Antony, as if 
to satisfy herself that he was still breathing. 

Pale and weary, Charmian and Iras watched 
her restless movements, recognizing their power- 
lessness to do or say aught to comfort her. 
Before the door, with drawn sword, stood Keph- 
ren, the sad mockery of a guard, for what could 
even his giant strength avail against the num- 
bers of Caesar’s legions. 


SAEDOU’S CLEOPATEA. 


247 


The stillness of the grave reigned in that 
vaulted chamber. No noise or tumult of the city 
could penetrate those thick walls. Caesar was 
master of Alexandria, and the proud daughter of 
the Ptolemies was a prisoner in the superb pile 
she had built for her tomb. 

Cleopatra’s breast was racked with a hundred 
conflicting emotions. Was this rich realm, over 
which she had reigned so long in limitless power, 
to be taken from her ? Was she, whose ambition 
it had been to one day rule at the Capitol, to fol- 
low, a prisoner and in chains, the victorious chariot 
of Octavius as it rolled through the streets of 
Rome ? Never ! But still her chief thought was 
how to save Antony. Even now, could he escape, 
perchance it was not too late to recover his lost 
supremacy, and his supremacy meant her own, 
and the freeing of Egypt from the galling yoke 
of the invader. Once she started to awake An- 
tony to consult with him, but she refrained, think- 
ing: 

“ ’Tis useless ! Eet him sleep. Oblivion is 
best. He might, perchance, awake but to fall into 
a sleep from which there would be no waking.” 

But how, how could she save him. Oh ! this 
Octavius ! Were it not for him, all would be 


248 


SABDOV’S CLEOPATBA. 


i 

well. Were it not for him? As she thought 
this, a desperate project formed itself in her 
mind. Yet, why should it not succeed? Her 
astuteness had before this been more than a 
match for infinitely more brilliant men than this 
young Octavius, whose successes had been due 
far more to chance than to his own ability. Had 
she lost any of the cleverness, any of the beauty, 
any of the fascination that had enslaved the great 
Cassar ? Could she but induce this man, who held 
her destiny and that of Antony in his hands, to 
place himself in her power, could she but lull to 
rest his suspicions for one brief interval, then 

“Iras !” she called, stopping suddenly, with 
cheeks crimsoning with excitement. 

The girl started, and hurried to her side. 

“Yes, royal mistress, I am here.” 

“Faithful Iras, go seek Octavius. The guards 
will let you pass. Say that Cleopatra craves im- 
mediate audience with him. Ask it as a right, 
not as a boon granted through pity. No tears, 
Iras, no tears ! Mark Antony would scorn all tears. 
Tell him Cleopatra herself wishes to see him.” 

“Your will shall be obeyed.” 

She turned, but just as she was about to pass 
through the door, Cleopatra called her back. 


SABDOU’8 CLEOPATRA. 


249 


“Iras,” she whispered, “if he he inclined not to 
come, then weep, Iras, weepl” 

When the girl had vanished on her mission, 
Cleopatra approached Kephren, who still stood 
motionless at his post. 

“Kephren,” she said, looking him full in the 
eye, “you have always been faithful to me. Will 
you be faithful still ?” 

“Others may command, hut Cleopatra alone I 
obey.” 

“Would that in were in my power to reward 
you,” she said, with a sad smile. “I shall soon 
put your loyalty to a severe test.” 

She then washed her tear-stained face, and, 
with Charmian’s aid, proceeded to array herself 
in her most magnificent robes. 

Scarcely was she ready, when Iras returned 
with the news that Octavius granted the audience 
and would be there immediately. 

“Quick, Charmian,” cried the queen, excitedly, 
“draw the curtains before the recess where An- 
tony lies. And, Kephren, approach, and remem- 
ber well my words. Conceal yourself behind the 
tapestry there — ^there, behind that couch,” point- 
ing to a low divan, strewn with silken cushions. 
“There will I try to make Octavius sit. Draw 


250 


SABDOU’S CIWPATBA. 


your sword, and when I raise this fan to my lips, 
fell him with a blow as you would an ox, and so 
free Egypt from her enemy.” 

Without a word, Kephren strode to the tapestry 
and hid himself behind the heavy folds. 

Cleopatra threw herself down in a negligent 
attitude upon the couch. 

“I will win him!” she muttered. “I will win 
him!” 

It was not many minutes before the door was 
thrown open, and a soldier announced : 

“Caesar!” 

Octavius entered, followed by his officers. 

“The queen ?” he asked of Charmian, who was 
nearest, the door. 

“I am the queen,” replied Cleopatra, raising 
her lovely eyes, with a sad smile, to the face of 
her conqueror. 

Octavius approached the couch, and Cleopatra 
arose and knelt before him. 

“Nay, madam, you must not kneel,” said Octa- 
vius coldly, assisting her to her feet. “You wished 
to see me, and I am here.” 

“Yes, great Caesar,” she replied. “I sent to 
you to crave mercy for him, for Antony.” 

Octavius’ face grew dark. 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


251 


' “No mercy can be shown to traitors,” be said, 
barsbly. 

In vain did Cleopatra plead, in vain did she 
lavish upon him flatteries and blandishments. 
Her beauty left him unmoved, her fascinations 
made no impression upon his cold blood. The 
only emotion aroused in him was a sort of cold 
curiosity to see the woman who had enticed his 
sister’s husband from his lawful place. 

At last, in desperation, and in spite of the 
presence of the ofiicers, whom she had been un- 
able to induce Csesar to send away, Cleopatra was 
about to give the fatal signal, when, suddenly, 
the silken curtains, which concealed the bed upon 
which Antony lay, were thrust furiously aside, 
and Antony himself appeared, white with fury. 

He made a rush toward Octavius, but the latter 
started back, and his ofidcers at once closed about 
him. 

“You see,” cried Antony, scornfully, “you see, 
my queen, that, wounded as I am, he fears me 
still ! Great conqueror, hail ! You — you a con- 
queror ? It is not Octavius that has conquered 
Antony, but Rome. Your very ofiicers know it ! 
Your very officers despise you, tyrant, coward, 
slave !” 


252 


SABBOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


As Antony poured forth his superb indigna 
tion, Qctavius’ color forsook him, and he quailed 
before this man who, beaten and dying as he was, 
was still his superior. 

Cleopatra had thrown her arms about her 
lover’s neck, and was seeking to quiet him. 

Suddenly, the blaze of wrath faded from An- 
tony’s face, and a dark, crimson stain appeared 
upon the white of his tunic. 

Cleopatra uttered a shriek of horror. 

In answer to her cry, Kephren, forgetful of all, 
came running from behind the tapestry. He 
cast aside his sword, and catching Antony in his 
arms, just as he was about to fall, laid him down 
upon the cushions of the couch. Cleopatra, in an 
agony of fear, flung herself on her knees beside 
him. 

“Seize that man, and carry him away !” said 
Octavius, in a low voice. 

Before Kephren was conscious of what they 
were about to do, four of the oflScers had seized 
him in a Arm grasp. 

“Away with him !” 

And in spite of his struggles, the Queen of 
Egypt’s last servitor was dragged from her pres- 
ence. 


SABBOU'S CLEOPATRA. 


253 


One of tlie officers advanced and picked up the 
sword. 

“So !” said Octavius, with a cold, ironical smile, 
“the queen demanded audience of Caesar to assas- 
sinate him !” 

Cleopatra sprang to her feet and faced him. 

“Yes,” she cried, wildly, “and, had the gods 
not deserted me, you would be lying now dead at 
my feet !” 

“Caesar’s hour has not come. I shall see you 
yet, treacherous queen, figure in my triumph, the 
sport of the Roman crowd.” 

“Then, it will be my dead body, never Cleopa- 
tra living.” 

“You cannot escape Caesar. Caesar is master 
here. Proculeius, guard this woman, and your 
life shall answer for it if she does harm to herself, 
either with the fire of poison, or the steel of a 
dagger.” 

And with a harsh glance at the queen, and the 
recumbent form of Antony, he turned and strode 
from the apartment, followed by his of&cers, the 
one whom he had addressed as Proculeius and 
one other remaining on guard just outside the 
open door. 

Pale with passion and with heaving breast. 


254 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATllA. 


Cleopatra gazed after him. A moan from An- 
tony recalled her to herself. With a low cry, she 
turned and threw herself down on the couch 
beside him. 

“My love ! My love !” 

Charmian and Iras approached and attempted 
to raise her, but she waved them away. 

“No ! Leave me alone with him.” 

“Egypt, I am dying !” issued in faint syllables 
from Antony’s lips. 

“No ! No !” she slfrieked. “Oh, ye gods, who 
have wreaked your cruelty upon me, now be kind, 
and give me back his fleeting life !” 

“Grieve not, my Cleopatra,” he murmured, 
raising his heavy eyes to the beautiful face he 
loved so well. “Blessed be fortune that permits 
me to die near you ! Oh ! Cleopatra, my last 
thought is for you ! I am cold — come closer to 
me.” 

She wound her arms about him, and pressed 
her face close to his. 

“Oh ! fatal destiny !” she moaned. “My love, 
we loved each other too much. The gods were 
jealous of us.” 

“I do not accuse the gods — fate — had I the 
choice, I would still take the life they have given 


SARDOU’S OLEOPATRA. -z&S 

me — it lias been a glorious one — a Roman, I liave 
had for a conqueror no other than a Roman. I 
have lived, loving and loved by you. In death I 
am still happy. I am near you. Happy ! Do 
not grieve for me. All Caesar has is as naught 
to this. I die for you, and in your arms. Kiss 
me, my sweet !” 

She pressed, in a long passionate kiss, her 
warm lips to his already cold in death, and, in 
that kiss, Antony’s soul sped to the Great Un- 
known. 

Suddenly, the queen raised her head, and 
gazed wildly upon the ashen face. Then, she 
shrieked aloud : 

“Dead! Dead!” 

Charmian and Iras hurried to her side. Iras 
cast her arms about the queen, while Charmian 
bent over and closed the staring eyes of Antony. 

The queen seemed frozen into marble, so white 
and rigid was she. Finally, the pale lips moved, 
and in low, heart-breaking accents, she mur- 
mured : 

“What ! His eyes are closed, closed forever ! 
My Antony ! I will soon follow you, and yet — 
and yet, it is frightful, it is cruel for you to go 
first. The half of my soul is torn away. To 


268 


SABDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


love what can no longer love, to feel cold a hand 
which burned you when living, to seek in vain a 

heart Ah ! it is too much ! Charmian ! 

Iras ! Why do I not die ? Oh ! Isis, Queen of 
Heaven ! hear my prayer ! Take me to Antony ! 
Thou didst once mourn thy husband! Watch 
over mine till I come 1” 

“Madam,” said Charmian, “Queen, Royal 
Egypt, be comforted! He bade you not to 
grieve.” 

Cleopatra arose to her feet. 

“Yes,” she cried, almost exultantly. “He bade 
me not to grieve, nor will these eyes shed one 
tear. I have not loved a Roman without know- 
ing what is becoming in his wife. For I was his 
wife ! Pale, bloodless Octavia never deserved the 
name ! Who dare dispute it with me ? Oh ! 
Death, thou, who hast taken him from me, be 
proud of thy prey ! Never was there a greater, 
more illustrious warrior. Powerful in the senate, 
in the army, and in Rome ; in Rome, where all 
are great, he was the greatest. He marched 
proudly, surrounded by an escort of kings, for 
the entire universe lived only to do his bidding. 
And yet, all this grandeur, brilliancy, and power 
were as nothing in his eyes. He sought in life 


SARD OU’ IS CLEOPATRA. 


something more precious still. When he under- 
stood love, he despised glory. A conqueror, he 
cast down his arms, proud that the world should 
one day say : ‘Antony knew how to love !’ Oh ! 
Caesar, it was not ambition that prompted his de- 
sire to rule over land and sea, it was that he 
might lay down the universe as an ofiering to 
love !” 

She stood, drawn up to her full height, her eyes 
flashing with pride in her lover and that she had 
been the object of his love. Never had she looked 
more beautiful, never more regal. 

She was startled from her ecstasy by the en- 
trance of Proculeius. 

“Queen,” he said, respectfully, “it is Caesar’s 
will that you go with him to Rome to-night.” 

“To Rome !” she cried. “Never !” 

“Madam,” he said, sorrowfully, “I but fulfill 
my duty.” 

“’Tiswell. Go!” 

The soldier bowed, and retired. 

“To Rome 1” whispered Charmian, in horror. 
“To Rome!” 

“Fear nothing, good Charmian,” said Cleopatra. 
“I have yet time. Lend me your dagger.” 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


“Alas, madam, I have none.” 

“You have none, girl ! Nor I ! Nor 1 1” 

“Be calm, dear mistress.” 

But the queen was frantic with despair. 

“No dagger ! No weapon of any sort ! Fool 
that I was to forget ! Can nothing save me from 
my fate ? Must I follow Csesar, and enter Rome 
behind his chariot ? Ah, I can see it all ! For 
escort I shall have triumphing soldiers. The 
whole length of the way I shall be pursued by the 
insulting cries of the rabble. I shall pass before 
the house of Octavia, who will follow me with her 
eyes, and her glance, usnally so cold, will burn, 
for the first time, with pleasure. To go to Rome 1 
To go to Rome, conquered and disarmed! Oh, 
shades of the Ptolemies, come to my aid I Hide 
me ! Not a single friend conies to save me ! Not 
one understands that I long to die. Not one. 
Not one !” 

But, even as she spoke, there was one close at 
hand, one who had longed to do her service, and 
whose opportunity at last had come. 

Before the open door appeared a man of slender 
figure and clear-cut features, a man dressed in the 
robes of a priest of Ammon. In his hands he car- 
ried a basket filled with figs and lotus-flowers. 


SAIWOV'S CLEOPATRA. 


259 


“Halt!” cried Proculeius. “What is your 
business ?” 

“The queen I” he answered, shortly. 

Cleopatra heard the loud answer, and recognized 
the voice. 

“It is Pharon,” she whispered to herself, with a 
sudden revulsion from despair to hope. “It is 
Pharon. I am saved 1” 

“It is Pharon 1” thought Iras, with a shiver of 
dread. “He is lost!” 

Breathlessly the two women awaited the result. 

“What do you wish, priest?” continued Procu- 
leius. “What is your name ?” 

“I am a servant of the holy temple of Ammon,” 
replied Pharon, calmly. “Every evening, after 
the sacrifices, the fruits of the season are offered 
to the queen. It is the custom of the temple, 
and I come to-day to fulfill my duty.” 

Proculeius, half doubting, stretched out his 
hand to take the basket ; but the pretended priest 
started back with an assumption of horror. 

“What!” he cried, “touch the sacred fruit! 
Roman, do you wish by a vain sacrilege to shock 
Egypt and render yourself odious ? You will not 
rule this land save by respecting its gods. Of such 


260 


SAIWOU^S CLEOPATRA. 


respect Csesar would be the first to furnish you 
an example. He knows that here even the throne 
is second to religion. 

Proculeius hesitated a moment. His suspicions 
were allayed, for he knew how strict were the 
Egyptians in their observance of all religious 
rites. Finally he said : 

“Enter, then ! But hasten to fulfill your duty.” 

With slow steps, Pharon approached to where 
the queen stood, supported on either side by Char- 
mian and Iras., He knelt before her and placed 
the basket containing the figs at her feet. 

“Queen,” he said, in a low voice, “Rome awaits 
you. You are to depart this evening, unless — 
unless you prefer a prompt and noble death. Are 
you afraid of death ?” 

“I ?” she replied, in the same tone, not a muscle 
of her face changing, to betray to the watchful 
Proculeius the emotion with which she was de- 
voured. “I am afraid of shame. Is it a dagger ?” 

“A dagger? No! Those insolent witnesses 
would seize you before you could strike.” 

“Poison ?” 

“The soul long rebels against poison. You 
would suffer too much, and you would die less 
beautiful. Serpents are hidden beneath this fruit — 


SAETtOU'S CLEOPATEA. 


261 


tlie asps of the Nile. Their venom will make you 
drowsy with the last sleep, without distortion, 
without suffering.” 

“Must she die ?” murmured Charmian. “ Is 
there no hope ?” 

Cleopatra motioned Pharon to place the basket 
near the couch upon which Antony lay. 

Then she extended to him her white hand. He 
bent over, and his lips touched it, lingeringly, 
passionately. He caught his breath with a shud- 
dering gasp, and, turning, hurried away, without 
one glance at the golden-haired girl, whose soft 
lips trembled in a grievous quiver and whose blue 
eyes filled with tears. 

“So !” said Cleopatra, her face illumined with a 
radiance that was almost supernatural. “Let us 
give to my death an aspect of triumph. Char- 
mian, the crown and the royal mantle !” 

Charmian brought from the heap of treasure 
the purple, mantle, heavy with embroidery, and 
the sparkling diadem of Egypt. 

With Iras’ aid, she attached the mantle to the 
shoulders of the queen and placed the crown upon 
her royal head. 

Proculeius looked on at the proceedings without 


262 


SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


surprise. He thouglit that Cleopatra was prepar- 
ing to accompany Csesar in a style befitting her 
rank. 

“Let Octavius now come to seek his prey. He 
will find her awaiting him. Farewell, my good 
Charmian. Farewell, sweet Iras ! Nay, restrain 
your tears. My death shall be yours, if you so 
will it.” 

As if advancing to some grand ceremonial, she 
crossed the room, with regal step, to the couch 
where Antony lay. There was not a tremor, not 
a fear in her heart. Without a shadow of regret 
would she say farewell to life, which had been to 
her one of boundless power and unbridled pleas- 
ures. What use to prolong an existence of which 
she had tasted all the honey ? What remained 
for her to do save to fulfill her promise and join 
her lover. That was the only happiness now per- 
mitted to her. The serpent of the Nile would 
deliver the Queen of Egypt from her conquerors. 
She would die free and great. 

She sank down upon the couch, and, with a 
smile, looked upon the calm face before her. Then 
she plunged her hand into the basket of figs and 
drew forth one of the asps. Baring her breast, 
she laid it upon the fair, white flesh. 


SAUDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 


263 


The sting is sharp. Already the poison steals 
through her veins. 

“Caesar,” she murmured, “do thy worst. Part 
us now, if thou canst ! A last kiss, my Antony, 
the last of so many kisses. Isis, bear my soul to 
his. Antony, I come ! I come !” 

The beautiful head sank down until her lips 
rested upon his. There was a slight shiver of 
the limbs, and then all was still. 

The Empire of the World belonged now to 
Octavius. The last to resist Rome was no more. 

The Great Queen was dead ! 

THE END, 


All Entiancing Emotional Story, 


3y BEETHA M. CLAT. 


ilo. I Of ths Primrose Editioii of GopyrigM Nonls. 


Price, Cloth, $1; Paper, 50 Cents. 


SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

Messrs. Street & Smith, New York, begin anew series of novels — “The 
Primrose Library’’— Avith “Another Man’s Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. The 
Btor> has enoajjh plot to keep one from fallin^r asleep over it, and it also in- 
dicates the stumbling-blocks and pitfalls which abound everywhere for 
young husbands and vvives who think so much about having “a good time” 
that they have no time left in which to think about reputation and 
character. — N. T. Herald^ Sept. 10. 

Street & Smith publish the American copyright novel, “Another Man’s 
Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. It deals with certain corrupting influences of 
fashion .able society, and impressively warns of the dangers that spring 
from them. Its i)lot is strong and dramatic, and is elaborated with all or 
the qualities of style that have made the author so poi>ular. It is the first 
issue of the new Primrose Series.— Boston Globe^ Sept. 16. 

“Another Man’s Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay, Street & Smith’s Primrose 
Series, is a laudable effort toward the repression of the growing evil of 
matrimonial disloyalty. The book is handsomely hound, with a holiday 
look about it . — Brooklyn Eagle, Sept. 15. 

Street & Smith of New York publish in cloth cover “Another Man’s 
Wife,” by Bertha M. Clay. The story is effective. It impressively depicts 
the results certain to attend the sins of deception. It teaches a lesson that 
will not be lost upon those thoughtless men and women who, only intent 
upon pleasure, little dream of the pitfall before them, and to which they are 
blind until exposure wrecks happiness.— T/’oy (N. Y.) Press, 

Street & Smith, New York, have brought out in book-form “Another 
Man’s Wife.” This is one of Bertha M. Clay’s most effective stones.— 
Cincinnati Enquirer, 

“Another Man’s Wife.” This is one of Bertha M. Clay’s most effective 
stories. It forcibly and im]>ressibly poi trays the evils certain to attend 
matrimonial deceit, clandestine interviews, and all the tricks and devices 
which imperil a wife’s honor. It has a novel and entrancingly interesting 
plot, and abounds in vivid and dramatic incidents. It is the fipt is-nc 
Street & Smith’s Pnmrose Edition of Copyright Novels, and will not appeal 
elsewhere FranJdin 


PEIMEOSE EDITION 

IsTo. 3. 


THE 

Belle of the Season, 

By Mrs. HARRIET LEWIS, 

is an intensely interesting story ^ and written in the 
best style of the gifted author. The large sales 
of this book are sufficient proof of its merit., 
and it is recommended to all lovers of 
first-class literature. 


The Bell^ of the Season. — This is a gracefully told love story, by 
Mrs. Harriet Lewis, abounding in dramatic action and extremely capti- 
vating incidents, The plot is a marvel of ingenuity, not at all extra- 
vagant, and the love scenes are very spiritedly depicted. The reader 
must admire the adroit manner in which the hero and heroine, after 
innumerable trials, temptations, and misunderstandings, overcome all 
obstacles to their union, and recognize each other’s worth. There is 
an underplot of deep interest which entrances the charm of romance, 
and every chapter developes novel and unexpected features. The 
Belle of the Season is one of Mrs. Lewis* most entrancing works, 
and is likely to have a large sale . — Pittsburg Leader, 


For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or will be sent, postage 
FEEE, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 50 cents, by the publishers, 

STREET (& SMITH, 

25 to 31 Bose Street, New York. 


P. 0. Box 2734. 


The Select Series 


OF 

Popular American Copyright Stories. 

No. 79— THE GAY CAPTAIN, by- 

Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

:To. 78— VASHTI’S FATE; or, 
PURIFIED BY FIRE, by 

Helen Corwin Pierce 25 

Jo. 77— THE THREE BLOWS; 
or, LOVE, PRIDE AND 
REVENGE, by Karl Drury. 25 
To. 76— A PROUD DISHONOR, 

by Genie Holtzmeyer 25 

Jo. 75— THE WIDOWED BRIDE, 
by Lucy Randall Comfort. . . 25 
No. 74— THE GRINDER PAPERS, 

by Mary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 73-BORN TO COMMAND, 

by Hero Strong 25 

No. 72— A MODERN MIRACLE, 

by James Franklin Fitts 25 

No. 71-THE SWEET SISTERS 
OF INCHVARRA, by Annie 
Ashmore 25 

No. 70— HIS OTHER WIFE, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 69— A SILVER BRAND, by Charles T. Manners 25 

No. 68— ROSLYN’S TRUST, by Lucy C. Lillie 25 

No. 67— WILLFUL WINNIE, by Harriet Sherburne 25 

No. 66-ADAM KENT’S CHOICE, by Humphrey Elliott 25 

No. 65— LAURA BRAYTON, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 64— YOUNG MRS. CHARNLEIGH, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 63 -BORN TO BETRAY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 62— A STRANGE PILGRIMAGE, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 61— THE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE, by Hon. Evelyn Ashby 25 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. WHliams 25 

No. 59— WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM’S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES, by Marion Harland 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54— THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 51— A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN’S SIN, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 50 — MARRIED IN MASK, by Mansfield Tracy Walworth 25 

No. 49-GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 48 -THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE, by A. M. Douglas 25 

No. 47— SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by Jiilia EdTOd§, 25 



The Select Series. 

(Contimied.) 

No. 46— A MOMENT OF MADNESS, by Charles J. BeUamy 25 

No. 45— WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame 25 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 43 — TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 42— A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, by Mrs. E. Burke CoUins 25 

No. 41 -BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 40— AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 39— MARJORIE DEANE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 38— BEAUTIFUL, BUT POOR, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 35 — CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Rf* 'dall Comfort 25 

No. 34— THE LITTLE WIDOW, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 33— THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32— LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma G. Jones 25 

No. 31— MARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 30— PRETTIEST OF ALL, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 29— THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 26 

No. 28-A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 27— WINIFRED, by Mary Kyle Dallas 25 

No. 26 — FONTELROY, by Francis A. Durivage 25 

No. 2*5— THE KING’S TALISMAN, by Sylvanus Cobb. Jr 25 

No. 24-THAT DOWDY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 23— DENMAN THOMPSON’S OLD HOMESTEAD 25 

No. 22— A HEART’S BITTERNESS, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 21 — THE LOST BRIDE, by Clara Augusta 25 

No. 20 — INGOMAR, by Nathan D. Urner 25 

No. 19 — A LATE REPENTANCE, by Mrs. Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 18 — ROSAMOND, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 17— THE HCtUSE OF SECRETS, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 16— SYBIL’S INFLUENCE, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 15— THE VIRGINIA HEIRESS, by Mrs. May Agnes Fleming 25 

No. 14— FLORENCE FALKLAND, by Burke Brentford 25 

No. 13— THE BRIDE-ELECT, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No, 12— THE PHANTOM WIFE, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 11 — BADLY MATCHED, by Mrs. Helen Corwin Pierce 25 

No. 10— OCTAVIA’S PRIDE, by Charles T. Manners 25 

No. 9 -THE WIDOW’S WAGER, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 8— WILL SHE WIN? by Emma Garrison Jones 25 

No. 7 — GRATIA’S TRIALS by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 6— A STORMY WEDDING, by Mrs. Mary E. Bryan 25 

No. 5 -BRUNETTE AND BLONDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

No. 4— BONNY JEAN, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 3— VELLA VERNELL; or, AN AMAZING MARRIAGE, by Mrs. Sumner 

Hayden 25 

No. 2- A WEDDED WIDOW, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 1— THE SENATOR’S BRIDE, by Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 25 

Tllo.^p, popular books are luriro t' po odirions. well uriuted. wpll bound and 
In hand.soiue t*ovors. For salo. bv all B<»oks<‘ll<M-a and Nf-w.-^dealor.s ; or sent, 
postage freCt on receipt of price, 25 cents cacli. by tlie piiidisbers, 

STREET & SMITH, 

25 to 31 Rose Street, K’ew York. 


P. O. Box 2734 


PEIME08E EDITION 



Her Royal Lover, 


By ARY ECILAW, 


zs a story of thrilling interest. The scenes are 
very draznatically drawn, and the characters 


graphically portrayed. 


Heb Eotaij Loyeb. — This is an admirable translation of a fascinating 
romance from the French, by Aby Ecilaw. It appeals especially to 
wives who aim to attract admiration, and to husbands who are so 
jealous that “trifles light as a ' often disturb the serenity of the 
household. It brings the heroine close to the verge of disaster ; it is 
Fo artfully woven that the persistent secret wooer is on the eve of being 
rewarded for his duplicity ; and the maddened husband is about to be 
humiliated, when, lo ! utterly unexpected events expose rascality and 
vindicate the impruder'-. but faithful wife. The story is vigorously and 
dramatically narrated, .. i many strong situations, and never lags in 
action. — Chronicle, 


For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers, or will be sent, postaoe 
FBEB, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt of 
price, 50 cents, by the publishers, 


STREET & SMITH, 

P, 0. Box 2734. 25 to 31 Bose Street, New York. 


BEETHA M. CLAY’S 

Copyright Novels, 

IKT 

select series 

jeLNxy 

pRIfflRQSE 5ERIES. 


FULLY ILLUSTEATED. 


Select Series. Price, 26c. each. 

No. 22- A HEART’S BITTERNESS. 

No. 28-A HEART’S IDOL. 

No. 36-THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER. 

No. 37-IN LOVE’S GRUGIBLE. 

No. 39-MARJORIE DEANE. 


Primrose Series. Price, 60c. each. 

No. I-ANOTHER MAN’S WIFE. 

No. 9-A WOMAN’S TEMPTATION. 

No. I l-BEYOND PARDON. 

These novels are among the best ever written by BEKTHA M. 
CLAY, and are enjoying an enormous sale. They are copyrighted 
and can be had only in THE SELECT and PKIMBOSE SERIES. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any address in the United States or Canada, on receipt 
of price, by 

STREET & SMITH, Pnhlishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Rose Street, New York. 


MES. CEOEBIE SHELIOE'S 

ijijaL.T:Esm^ 

COPYRIGHT NOVELS, 

IN 

Soleot Soriojs 

AND 

Sorieis- 

FULLY ILLUSTEATED. 

Select Series. Price, 25c. each. 

No. 16-SIBYL’S INFLUENCE. 

No. 24 THAT DOWDY. 

No. 43 TRIXY. 

No. 44-A TRUE ARISTOCRAT. 


Primrose Series. Price, 60c. each. 

No. 10 STELLA ROSEVELT. 

No. 12-LOST A PEARLE. 

These novels, from the pen of our gifted au- 
thor, who writes exclusively for us, are among 
her most popular productions, and hold the 
front rank in first-class literature. 


For sale by all Booksellers and News A^^ents. or will be sent, post- 
paid, to any addiess in the United States or Canada, on receipt 
of price, by 

STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

P. 0. Box 2734. 31 Rose Street, x\ew York. 



THE BEST AND BRIGHTEST! 


UNANIMOUSIiY ACKNOWI.EDGED TO BE THE 

GREATEST STORY AND SKETCH PAPER. 


FOR SALE BY ALL BOOKSELLERS AND NEWSDEALERS. 

BY MAIL, $3 A YEAR, POSTAGE FREE. 


STREET & SMITH, Publishers, 

25 to 31 Rose Street, New York. 


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THE SELECT SERIES 

OF 

POPULAR AMERICAN COPYRIGHT STORIES. 

No. 76 — A PROUD DISHONOR, by Genie Holtzmeyer 25 

No. 75 — THE WIDOWED BRIDE, by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 74— THE GRINDER PAPERS, by Mary Kyle DaUas 25 

No. 73— BORN TO COMMAND, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 72 — A MODERN MIRACLE, by James Franklin Fitts 25 

No. 71 -THE SWEET SISTERS OF INCHVARRA, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 70— HIS OTHER WIFE, by Rose Ashleigh 25 

No. 69 — A SILVER BRAND, by Charles T. Manners 25 

No. 68 — ROSLYN’S TRUST, by Lucy C. Lillie 25 

No. 67 — WILLFUL WINNIE, by Harriet Sherburne 25 

N 0 .. 66 -ADAM KENT’S CHOICE, by Humphrey ElUott 25 

No. 65 — LAURA BRAYTON, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 64— YOUNG MRS. CHARNLEIGH, by T. W. Hanshew 25 

No. 63-BORN TO BETRAY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 62— A STRANGE PILGRIMAGE, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 61— THE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE, by Hon. Evelyn Ashby 25 

No. 60— WON ON THE HOMESTRETCH, by Mrs. M. C. Williams 25 

No. 59— WHOSE WIFE IS SHE? by Annie Lisle 25 

No. 58 — KILDHURM’S OAK, by Julian Hawthorne 25 

No. 57— STEPPING-STONES, by Marion Harland 25 

No. 56— THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT, by Mary A. Denison 25 

No. 55— ROXY HASTINGS, by P. Hamilton Myers 25 

No. 54— THE FACE OF ROSENFEL, by C. H. Montague 25 

No. 53— THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 52— TRUE TO HERSELF, by Mrs. J. H. Walworth 25 

No. 51— A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN’S SIN, by Hero Strong 25 

No. 50 — MARRIED IN MASK, by Mansfield Tracy Walworth 25 

No. 49-GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY, by Mrs. M. V. Victor 25 

No. 48 -THE MIDNIGHT MARRIAGE, by A. M. Douglas 25 

No. 47— SADIA THE ROSEBUD, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 46— A MOMENT OF MADNESS, by Charles J. Bellamy 25 

No. 45— WEAKER THAN A WOMAN, by Charlotte M. Brame 25 

No. 44— A TRUE ARISTOCRAT, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 43 — TRIXY, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon 25 

No. 42— A DEBT OF VENGEANCE, by Mrs. E. Burke CoUins 25 

No. 41 -BEAUTIFUL RIENZI, by Annie Ashmore 25 

No. 40 — AT A GIRL’S MERCY, by Jean Kate Ludlum 25 

No. 39 — MARJORIE DEANE, by Bertha M, Clay 25 

No. 38— BEAUTIFUL, BUT POOR, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 37— IN LOVE’S CRUCIBLE, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 36— THE GIPSY’S DAUGHTER, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

No. 35 — CECILE’S MARRIAGE by Lucy Randall Comfort 25 

No. 34— THE LITTLE WIDOW, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 33— THE COUNTY FAIR, by Neil Burgess 25 

No. 32-LADY RYHOPE’S LOVER, by Emma G. Jones 25 

No. 31— MARRIED FOR GOLD, by Mrs. E. Burke Collins 25 

No. 30-PRETTIEST OF ALL, by Julia Edwards 25 

No. 29— THE HEIRESS OF EGREMONT, by Mrs. Harriet Lewis 25 

No. 28— A HEART’S IDOL, by Bertha M. Clay 25 

These popular books are large type editions, well printed, well bound, and 
in bandsouie covers. For sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers ; or sent, 
‘postage free, on receipt of price, 25 cents each, by the publishers. 




JI 7 E pi^I/T)[^OSE 5EI^1E5 


O If 

WORLD’S BEST FICTION, 


Comprising translations of the best foreign fiction, together with the 
works of popular Eiiglisli and American Authors. 


ISSUED 5E/I\I-/I\0]^5JiCY. PHI<?E, 50 <?ENTS- 


No. I— Another Man’s Wife, by Bertha M. Clay. 50 
No. 2 The Belle of the Season, by Mrs. Harriet 


Lewis 50 

No. 3- Doctor Jack, by St. George Rathbome 60 

No. 4- Kathleen Douglas, by Julia Trnitt Bishop. 50 

No. 5 -Her Royal Lover, by Ary licilaw 50 

No. 6 -Jose, by Otto Ruppins 60 

No. 7— His Word of Honor, by E. Werner 50 

No.- 8 A Parisian Romance, by A. 1). Hall 50 

No.( 9— A Woman’s Temptation, by Beriha M. 

__ ) Clay 50 

No. lO-Stella Rosevelt, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 50 

No. I I— Beyond Pardon, by Bertha M. Clay 50 

No. 12 Lost A Pearle, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon. 50 

No. 13-Tho Partners, by Alphonse Dandet 50 

No. 14-Sardou’s Cleopatra, by A. D. Hall 50 

No. 15-The Lone Ranch, by Capt. Mayne Reid ... 50 


THE PRIMROSE SERIES combines the highest art of book- 
making with the best fiction that can be obtained. For sale by all 
Booksellers and Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 

StREET & SMITH, PUBLISHERS, 
p. o. BOX 2734. 25-31 Rose Street, New York. 



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